For Auld Lang Syne
by MissMelysse
Summary: Christmas was never a great time to be on the ENTERPRISE, so Data and Zoe made New Year's Eve their holiday. Here's a look at three of them over the course of their relationship. Begins after chapter 13 of Crush II: Ostinato, and continues far into Data and Zoe's future. Data/OFC. NOTE: (7/7/15) NYE 2367 is complete. Story now on hiatus until CRUSH II catches up with it.
1. Prologue (20 December 2367)

**_Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything from canon; I own the rest. No money is being exchanged. Reviews are better than chocolate._**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _ **Stardate 44892.63**_

 _ **(Wednesday, 22 November 2367, 19:27 hours, ship's time)**_

 _He raised his left hand and lifted my chin just a little bit. Then he bent his head forward and kissed me. It was soft, and tender, and spoke volumes, and was over too soon, but the taste of him, the fact that it had come from him, still left me breathless._

 _I knew we still had to figure out the 'rules' for this new version of us. I knew we still had issues to work through. But for the first time, I also knew – really knew – that we could do it. We weren't a couple, exactly, but we were definitely an 'us.'_

 _"Yeah," I said, feeling my heart racing in my chest. "Break's definitely over."_

 _-_ _ **Crush II: Ostinato**_ _, Chapter 13, "Endurance"_

 **(=A=)**

Data had asked me not to run from him the next time we kissed, and I didn't, exactly. We went to dinner with my mother and Ed to celebrate my scores on the college entrance exams, and kept things pretty light, adjourning to our quarters for dessert in a more casual setting.

It was both completely comfortable and completely weird having Data there. On the one hand, we'd had such evenings before, but there had always been underlying tension – at least on my part – a worry that I might reach out to touch him when I shouldn't. That evening, that tension was lifted. Oh, we weren't holding hands under the table, or anything like that, but when Data took his leave of us around midnight, and I walked him to the door, he pulled me close and kissed the top of my head, whispering his "goodnight, Zoe," into my hair.

Two days later, I was on a shuttlecraft en route to Starbase 84 for the college faire that was to begin that Monday. We were making a stop at the _Berlin_ so their high school juniors (T'vek and two of his friends) could join us, and then it was the better part of a day spent in transit.

The faire lasted for a week, but when we got there, I found that one of my best friends from Centaurus – Schuyler Bennett – was there, too. Apparently her father had been transferred after the battle against the Borg the year before. She invited me to stay for an extra week, and I was grateful that my mother allowed me to accept.

By the time I returned to the _Enterprise_ , my time was absorbed by finals in all of my courses (well, all but one – I'd taken an incomplete in Data's class, pending a discussion with Ms. Phelps at a later date), and Data was involved in figuring out why floors and tables and replicators kept going wonky. It ended up having something to do with pockets of dark matter.

By the time things had begun to approach normalcy, I was getting ready to head home to Centaurus for my semester break: sun, sand, surf, and the imminent arrival of a new (half) sibling. The break I'd asked for may have, technically, been over, but we were both so busy, it effectively lasted for extra month.

 **(=A=)**

 **U.S.S.** _ **Enterprise & **_**U.S.S.** _ **Descartes  
**_

 **Stardate 44967.78**

 **(Wednesday, 20 December 2367, 05:47 hours, ship's time)**

The corridor lighting on the ship was still dimmed for 'night' watch, which only enhanced the feeling of pre-dawn that hovered over the shuttle bay when we arrived at an absurdly early hour in the morning. Ridiculous, really, as there was no 'dawn' in space.

My mother wasn't due on duty until nine, but she'd been up before me, not so much to make sure I was on time, as to see me off. I had insisted that it wasn't necessary; she had insisted that it was, and since she _hadn't_ balked about the person who was to be both my pilot and my traveling companion for the next 26 or so hours, I figured I'd let her do the mom thing.

"Zoe, Emily, good morning." Data greeted us from the open hatch of the _Descartes_ , the shuttlecraft we'd be taking. I wasn't sure I'd ever heard them use each other's names before. He came down the ramp to take my luggage from me – the same rolling suitcase I'd used the previous summer during my time on Earth, and my cello in its hard travel case – "I will stow your gear. You will be able to access it in-flight if necessary. We must be ready for launch in eight minutes."

"Data, wait?" my mother called him back to us.

"Emily?"

I watched my mother meet my…meet Data's…eyes, and in that moment she wasn't an officer under his command, nor was she a fellow scientist. In that moment she was a mother issuing a warning to the man she was entrusting with her daughter's – _my_ – life. "Keep her safe for me."

He extended his right hand, clasping hers in a firm handshake. Gravely, he promised. "I will do so." He held her gaze for a long moment, and then released her hand, and returned to the shuttle with my stuff.

My mother turned to me, apparently sensing that I'd been watching her pretty closely. "Before you say anything, that wasn't about you being a child."

But that wasn't what I'd seen at all. "I know," I said. "Mom…you don't have to worry. It's not like we're going on vacation _together_. He's dropping me at Centaurus Spaceport, and then going off to his conference, or whatever."'

"But you will be spending over a day in a close environment." She sighed. "Zoe, I'm your mother. I love you, and I am allowed to worry."

"Honestly, Mom, it'll be miraculous if I even get a goodbye kiss from him when he leaves me." I paused. "Can we talk about something else now? Like what you and Ed are doing for Christmas? Is there a ring in your future?"

My mother actually blushed. "We've been discussing the future," she said. "But nothing's certain yet." She took a deep breath, then drew me into her arms. "Have fun. Be helpful to Gia. Be nice to your father. And don't forget to check your six before you engage thrusters when you take your license exam."

I laughed at the last bit of advice. "I won't, Mom. I promise. See you next year. Love you." I tightened my arms around her for a moment, then pulled away and ran up the ramp and into the shuttle.

Data was already doing his pre-launch checklist. "You may sit 'up front' if you like," he said.

I grinned, and slid into the other seat in the cockpit. "You _know_ I would." He turned his head toward me, favoring me with a slight tilt of his head and a brief quirk of his brows. Then he turned his attention back to launch procedures, and I watched his hands playing over the console.

I'd never been in the cockpit for a launch before, and I couldn't help but react as we left the shelter of the shuttle bay and thrust away from the _Enterprise._ The ship was so big, that from inside it felt more like a moving _place_ , but seeing her from outside, "Wow," I breathed.

"Zoe?"

"I've never seen the _Enterprise_ from outside before."

"But this is not your first time in a shuttle."

"It's my first time up front during launch or docking," I said. "Different view, different angles."

"Ah."

I met his gaze, reflected on the main viewer. "She's really beautiful."

"Yes, she is," he agreed. But he wasn't looking out, he was looking at me, and I had the distinct impression he wasn't talking about the giant, silvery starship, either.

 **(=A=)**

Some author from forever-ago on Earth once wrote in a novel that "Space is big. Really big." He was right, but what he neglected to add was that space could also be boring. Really boring. Translation: I hadn't had coffee before we left, and the early hour and quiet hum of the engines had me yawning about an hour into the trip.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was up really late with Annette and Dana last night, and then too early this morning. I'll move to the back."

"You do not have to."

"Data?"

"These seats recline to an angle that is optimal for spinal support during sleep, and a pillow and blanket are stowed in the comfort pouch on the back."

"Is that normal, or did you anticipate that I'd fall asleep on you?" His expression told me all I needed to know. "Is there any particular reason you want me to stay here?"

"Is that not the typical arrangement for the non-piloting member of a couple on a 'road trip?'?"

 _But we're not really a couple,_ I didn't say. Instead I pointed out, "Road trips usually require being in a ground vehicle on an actual, you know, road."

"A predetermined flight path with periodic check-ins is somewhat analogous to an 'actual, you know, road,' is it not?" He mimicked my snarky slang, which made me grin.

"I guess so," I allowed. I wanted to ask him if he considered us to be a couple. Instead I fetched the pillow and blanket he'd mentioned, and reclined my seat all the way back. "Wake me up when it's time for the sing-a-long."

"Sing-a-long?" he asked.

"If this is a road trip, there has to be a sing-a-long."

He didn't respond directly, but he did cut the illumination in the cockpit down to about thirty percent of normal. "Sleep well, Zoe."

 **(=A=)**

I slept for about three hours, waking up to Data's voice on the comm-system checking in with both the _Enterprise_ – we were almost out of communications range – and one of the starbases between us and Centaurus. "Shuttlecraft _Descartes_ out," he said, cutting the signal at the end of the latter conversation.

"Hey," I said softly. "We're not making a stop, are we?"

"We are not. Outpost 84-beta is merely the next checkpoint."

"I don't remember you making regular check-ins when you took our math class to Serenity Five last year." I brought the seat back to its upright position.

"This is a new policy in effect for small craft, since the Borg incursion and the Battle of Wolf 359."

"That was almost a year ago."

"Yes."

"How is that new?"

"Policy is not typically made in a day. It was only implemented thirty-seven days, sixteen hours ago."

"It took Starfleet ten months to put check-ins into place?"

"Yes."

"And you're the people we trust to protect us?" I snarked.

"If it had not been for testimony from Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and myself, this policy would not be in effect at all."

"You really never let me see the entire scope of what you do, do you?" I asked, struck by how much I still didn't know about him.

"At the time, you were more focused on your mother's recovery. As well, it did not occur to me that you would be interested." He turned to look at me. "As our friendship has deepened, so too, have our subjects of conversation. If I were to be asked about such a policy now, and the information was not classified, I would likely tell you."

"I wasn't ever really not-interested," I confessed. "It was just…expressing any kind of interest always ends up with people going, 'So, Zoe, does this mean you'll be applying to the Academy?' And every time I say no, I feel like they don't get it. Get me. I mean, Data, what you do, what Mom does – what you _all_ do – I may joke about it, but I have enormous respect for it. For all of you. It's just not…I'm not…"

"It is not where your destiny lies," he said simply. "I have never asked if you were considering the Academy," he added.

"No, you haven't. Thank you for that."

"You are welcome."

"What made _you_ choose Starfleet?" I asked. "I mean…you could do anything, be…anything."

"I believe you are overestimating my capabilities," he said.

"I believe that's not an answer," I shot back.

He set the shuttle's controls to autopilot, and turned his chair to face mine. I shifted in the other chair, sitting cross-legged in the seat. "It was Starfleet officers who found me, left out in the open, alone and inactive, on Omicron Theta. It was Starfleet officers who helped me realize I was not just machine, that I was a person, as well. Joining Starfleet was a way to give something back."

Somehow, the way Data told his story in the same soft inflection he always used, the same, familiar, matter-of-fact tone, only made it seem more poignant. "They're lucky to have you," I said softly.

"Thank you, Zoe. However, I, too have been 'lucky.'"

"Do you think you'll do something else someday? I mean…it's not like you don't have oodles of time ahead of you."

"Perhaps. For now, I am content where I am."

He swung his chair back toward the controls, but I stayed where I was, just watching him. I let silence dangle between us for several seconds. Finally, I asked the question that had been rolling in my mind since he'd decided we were on a road trip. "Data, are we a couple?"

"I can think of no other term that adequately describes our current relationship," he said, his voice quiet.

"Okay," I said, as butterflies took up residence in my stomach. "Okay," I repeated. I stood up and began to move toward the aft door, heading toward the craft's main cabin, but I paused behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not running from you, okay? I just have to pee."

In the reflection of his face on the control panel, I saw the corners of his mouth lift ever-so-slightly.

 **(=A=)**

"So," I began a couple of hours later, "tell me about the conference you're going to?" The shuttle was on autopilot, and we were both in the main cabin. I was having lunch, the food resting on a fold down table between two rows of facing benches. Data was keeping me company.

"It is a symposium on cybernetics, and I am a featured speaker," he said.

"They hold symposiums over the December holidays?" I asked.

"Even on worlds with human majorities, the traditional winter holidays are not universally celebrated," he reminded me. "It is held on a different planet each year. This is the third year I have attended, and my first as a speaker."

I ate a few bites of fettuccini al pesto while I listened to him describe the format of the symposium, explaining that it was after the last one that he made the decision to construct his daughter. He never faltered with his explanation, but I set down my fork and covered his hand with mine, anyway.

He looked down at my hand, then up to meet my eyes, as I asked, "Will there be a live-stream of your presentation, or at least a recording?"

"There will be a recording."

"Will you bring me a copy?"

"I did not know you had an interest in cybernetics."

"I have an interest in _you_ ," I said. "You'll probably have to watch it with me and translate it into words of one syllable, though." I was only half-kidding.

"It will certainly be a departure from our usual video night fare," he said.

I laughed. "We might have to skip the popcorn that night."

"That may be wise," he agreed. "It is nearly time for our next check-in," he added, sliding his hand from beneath mine, and leaving the bench where he had been sitting. "Please take your time in finishing your meal, and rejoin me when you are ready."

"Actually, if it's alright with you, I'm going to hang out back here for a while. I promised Mom I'd have college applications done by the end of semester break, and that means I have a bunch of stunning essays to write."

"You have made your decision about where to apply then?"

As he'd only ever considered Starfleet, Data had never gone through the process of sorting through brochures and picking schools, weighing the likelihood of admission to your dream school against the reality of life if you only get into your safety school. With my grades and activities in theater and music, I wasn't terribly worried about any of my options turning me down, but I also knew that there were gaps in my resume. Gaps I'd have to address when I returned to the _Enterprise_ in January.

"I have," I said, not giving him the information he really wanted.

"May I ask where?"

"The Martian, obviously," I began.

"Even though you have made it clear that you do not necessarily want to pursue music as a career?"

"Even though," I said. "I'm kind of obligated to apply," I added softly. "Otherwise I've wasted Dad's money…and your time."

Data sat back down. "Zoe," he said, his voice still quiet, but with a note of firmness that I'd come to associate with his 'officer' mode. "Whether or not you use the work we have done together in music theory to help forge a career in music, or simply accept it as an enhancement to your education, you have not wasted my time. The time we spent studying and playing together has improved my musicianship, as well as your own. It is also what helped us to become friends, and served as the catalyst to the relationship we have now."

He paused, checking to see that I was really listening, and when he saw that I was, he continued. "You told me that our Saturday Sessions had become 'imprinted on every part of your being.' Can you accept that, I, too, have gained something from those hours, and that when we eliminate them from our schedules, I miss them, as well?"

For several seconds, I fiddled with the remains of my pesto, not looking at him. Just as he was about to prompt me, I met his eyes. "See, you say these things, and then I feel guilty for cancelling something we both enjoyed, and you're sitting so close and...couldn't you have been mean and gross and ugly? My life would be a lot easier if I wasn't constantly distracted by wanting to kiss you."

"Constantly?" I wasn't sure if he was teasing me, or not, but it was the perfect response to bring me back to center, so to speak, and he delivered it with the lifting of his brow that denoted skepticism.

"Well," I teased. "Maybe not _constantly_. Sometimes I sleep." I took a breath. "Go pilot the shuttle or something? We can save the rest of my list of college choices for later."

He seemed to understand that what I really wanted – needed, even – was some alone time to regroup. "Join me up front when you wish," he said, standing. "And Zoe?"

"Hmm?"

"There are times when you 'distract' me, as well. I find the experience to be…quite pleasant."

I glared at him. "So. Not. Helping."

He retreated to the cockpit.

 **(=A=)**

 **U.S.S.** _ **Descartes**_ **(NCC-1701-D-011)**

 **Stardate 44969.12**

 **(Wednesday, 20 December 2367, 17:30 hours, ship's time)**

"It's too quiet," I said when I returned to the cockpit a few hours after lunch. Dropping into my seat, I continued, "The shuttle has a decent music library, doesn't it?"

"I am not certain what you would classify as 'decent,'" was his diplomatic response. While we had some overlapping preferences in music, we – mainly I – also had some preferences that we did not share.

"Something cheerful and sing-able, preferably with a beat. No Gilbert and Sullivan, nothing Kzinti, and no opera of any kind."

"It may be best if you browse through the visual menu," he suggested, tapping a couple of controls. "It is now available from your console."

I reached for the controls nearest my seat, then stopped, staring at his display. "Is that us?" I asked, looking at the vaguely shuttle-shaped marker on his panel.

"It is," he said.

"How far is it to Centaurus?"

"At our present speed, we will be there in thirteen hours, twenty-six minutes."

"With the understanding that I am _not_ asking for navigation 101 or anything, can you show me our route?"

"Yes." He changed the main viewer from a real-time view to a map. "We are here," he said, placing a marker with the touch of a button. "The Alpha Centauri system is here, and Centaurus specifically is… _here._ " He indicated the star system and planet of my birth.

"Wait…" I was staring at the chart, and something niggled in the back of my brain. "Isn't that Hunter's Moon?" I asked, pointing to a smaller star system sort of between where we were and where we were going, "I mean, isn't that the system where Hunter's Moon is?" I corrected myself.

"You are correct," he said.

"I've always wanted to go there," I said. "I mean, I know it's a constructed world, but I've heard it's got some of the best restaurants and entertainment facilities in the sector."

"I have heard that as well," he said. "Diverting would delay our arrival at Centaurus by six point nine seven hours, Zoe. I am afraid we will have to visit another time."

"You know I'm going to hold you to that."

"I do not doubt it."

I went back to browsing the music selections, finally finding an entire section of ancient rock and roll. Someone in systems design evidently had a 'thing' for Motown. "Oh, perfect," I said, hitting the 'play' command. "Data, we have reached the sing-a-long portion of the journey."

He didn't have time to ask what I'd selected, because the song started, and even though I was a little shy about singing more than a few notes in front of the man with super-android-pitch, I was caught up in the tune almost from the start, singing along with the recording:

 _"I need love, love  
To ease my mind  
I need to find, find someone to call mine  
But mama said"_

 _"You can't hurry love_  
 _No, you just have to wait_  
 _She said love don't come easy_  
 _It's a game of give and take"_

When the song ended, Data looked at me and said, "The Supremes. Recorded circa nineteen sixty-six on a 'label' called 'Motown.' It is a classic. Do you know 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough'? Would you like to sing it as a duet?"

I nodded and queued the song, making a mental note to ask him how he'd managed to discover Motown. If his voice was a little too precise for rock and roll, I overlooked it, just as he politely ignored my occasional off-notes, and we continued singing – me for the joy of it, and him because it was something he could fully participate in – until the next check-in.

 **(=A=)**

By twenty-one hundred hours we had finished dinner (vegetarian moussaka and a salad), the shuttle was on autopilot again, and we were playing cards. Or, more accurately, we were arguing about playing cards.

"Poker? Really? It's a total geezer game. It's for old guys in bad suits."

"I believe you are drawing your perception of poker from the noir films you enjoy," Data countered calmly. "I can assure you, Zoe, it is a much richer experience than you give it credit for."

"Richer for you, maybe. You're the king of the poker face. You're guaranteed to win. Anyway, the only kind of poker that's fun for two people is strip poker, and I'm pretty sure that isn't happening."

"Strip…poker? I am not familiar with that variation."

"You wager clothes instead of credits or chips. Losing bettor has to remove an article of clothing."

"You have played this game?"

"At CentaurArts Camp, two years ago, yeah. It was a refreshing change from Spin the Bottle and Smooch or Dare."

He didn't often say 'accessing' any more when his eyes did that birdlike flicker, but that night he did, and then his eyes widened. "Kissing games. Traditionally played among adolescent humanoids."

"You put a bunch of hormonal teenagers in a contained space, things happen," I said, shrugging. Then I sighed. "So, poker."

"If you are uncertain of the rules..."

"Just because I don't like the game, doesn't mean I don't know how to play. I know how to bait a fish hook, too, but fishing is supremely boring. I'd rather swim or surf." I watched him shuffle the cards, his hands moving quickly and gracefully, especially when he bridged them after the fourth riffle. Just as he started to deal, however, I stopped him. "No."

"Zoe?"

"What variation were you going to deal for?"

"We typically play five-card stud."

"Yeah. Definitely no. If we're going to do this, I get to choose the game."

"If you wish."

"I do wish. We'll play Texas Hold'em. Loser buys breakfast. There's a bistro, dirtside at Centaurus Spaceport, that does this sort of pancake-crepe-thing with lemon and butter…they fold it at your table."

"I accept your terms," he said, and began dealing.

We played until I started yawning. "I'm sorry," I said. "I really need to sleep soon."

"Do you wish to make up a bed here or would you prefer to come back to the cockpit?"

"I'll come back up front, but we should finish this hand first."

"There is no need," he said. "Breakfast will be 'on me' whether you overtake me on points by winning this hand, or not."

"Data…" I began, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. Finally I just said, "Thank you. I'm looking forward to it."

He collected the cards, flipping both our pocket cards to show that I would have taken the hand, after all. "If you are willing, I would like to play with you again sometime."

"I'll consider it," I said, " _if_ you teach me how to do that bridge thing after you shuffle, just…not right now."

"I would be happy to," he agreed.

I excused myself to the restroom to wash up and brush my teeth, and when I emerged, he'd dimmed the lights again, and left the pillow and blanket I'd used earlier on the seat of my chair. He'd also left a mug of tea on a tray that pulled out beneath the main control panel. "Mmm. Peppermint," I said, breathing in the aroma. "Are you this solicitous with everyone, or just me?"

"You should observe the way Commander Riker responds to hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows," he deadpanned, though his features broadened (for him) to a hint of a smile when I laughed.

I reached out to touch his shoulder, meaning to thank him for making what could have been a really dull trip feel almost like an extended first date, but as soon as I made contact, there was a shift in the mood between us. Almost as if lightning had moved through the shuttle. I heard him confirm a course correction with the computer, then re-engage the autopilot. (In truth, it had been engaged far more than not.)

Data swiveled his seat away from the controls again, to face the seat I had not yet taken. The unexpected motion caught me off-guard, and I lost my balance, but he caught me, easing me down, not into the right-hand seat that had become 'mine' for this journey, but onto his lap.

"Data?"

"No more talking," he said softly, using the words I'd spoken to him weeks before. His arms encircled my waist, and I slid my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, clasping them behind his neck. Our lips met, tentatively at first, and then we both seemed to grow more confident. Yes, we'd been sharing chaste kisses for months. Yes, we'd shared real kisses – proper kisses – on previous occasions, but those had all been prompted by external events. The kiss we shared in the shuttlecraft that night was just two people coming together. It was just...us.

I opened my mouth against his, and he matched me. Our tongues danced. The tip of his tongue found the edge of the stud I still had, and _teased_. I was flooded with the taste of him, the feel of him, and the connection I knew was real.

When his left hand left my waist, I stiffened, expecting him to end things, the way he had before. Instead, his right arm shifted, holding me more securely, and his left hand lifted to my head, first to smooth my hair away from my face, and then to tangle in it.

He wasn't the only one with a hair fetish. I'd wanted to bury my fingers in his hair since forever. I took the opportunity to do so, surprised by how thick, how soft it was. I wondered what it looked like without the pomade he seemed so fond of using. Inwardly, I grinned, knowing I was bound to find out…eventually.

We continued kissing. Slow, soft, lingering kisses. I knew my lips would be swollen in the morning, and I didn't care. His hand was fisted in my hair, and both of mine were tangled in his, and I lost awareness of almost everything else.

He, of course, did not, because he stopped things just as the comm beeped with in incoming message. "Computer, audio playback."

It was a recorded alert from the first marker beacon in Centauri space. Another checkpoint was imminent.

Our eyes met, and I grinned at him, and placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "I know," I said before he could apologize for ending things. "Duty calls."

"Quite literally, in this case," he agreed.

I stood up, feeling a tiny bit off-balance, and moved to my own chair, less than a meter away. Kicking off my shoes, I reclined the chair and curled up in it, lying on my side so I could watch him. I listened as he made the check in, and confirmed an estimated arrival time of "five hours, fifty-seven minutes from now."

"Data?" I asked softly, not wanting to completely break the mood.

"Yes, Zoe?"

"It's not going be another month before we do that again, is it?"

"That would not be my preference, no."

"Just checking." I yawned, and shifted slightly in the reclined seat. "G'night, Data."

I'm pretty sure he replied, but I was asleep almost instantly, lulled by the comforting combination of monitor glow, and his soft commands, and the steady thrum of the engines.

* * *

 **Notes:** I was originally going to just revise the original files and put them back, but then I realized that there's a four-week jump between chapter 13 of OSTINATO, and the beginning of AULD LANG SYNE. As well, since it was originally written before Lore inserted himself into my story, Data and Zoe had a very different relationship then. Finally, the reason it exists as a side story and is not incorporated into OSTINATO is that it's very specifically set over the holidays, when fairy tales are just a little closer to the surface of reality.

The shipboard incidents Zoe refers to are from the episode "In Theory." In the CRUSHverse, the dark matter plot happened in December 2367, as canon says, but the Jenna romance happened a year earlier. The _Descartes_ is a type-7 shuttlecraft (which design was revamped about a gazillion times) also identified as shuttle number eleven.

Zoe sings "You Can't Hurry Love," which was originally written and produced in 1966 by the Motown production team Holland–Dozier–Holland, and recorded by The Supremes.

(Edited. Math correction. Four weeks, not seven.)


	2. Song For a Winter's Night (Part I)

**_Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything from canon; I own the rest. Reviews and chocolate are welcome (I prefer the latter to be dark)._**

* * *

 **Song for a Winter's Night - Part I  
**

 _The lamp is burning low upon my table top_

 _The snow is softly falling_

 _The air is still in the silence of my room_

 _I hear your voice softly calling_

 _If I could only have you near_

 _To breathe a sigh or two_

 _I would be happy just to hold the hands I love_

 _On this winter night with you_

 **Centaurus Central Spaceport**

 **Stardate 44971.15 (Thursday, 21 December 2367, 11:21 AM local time.)**

"What happens when we get back to the ship?"

Data and I were lingering over the remains of breakfast at The Bistro, a rather unoriginally named restaurant in the dirtside part of Centaurus Central Spaceport. I'd picked the place because I loved the German-style pancake they served, and even Data had been impressed by the server's presentation as he mixed fresh lemon juice with melted butter inside the crepe-like shell, and then folded it first into a fan, and then a flower.

As had become our custom when we ate together in his quarters on the _Enterprise_ , we'd ordered one pancake and an extra plate, and split the dish in two. With coffee and a dish of fresh fruit, it made a perfect breakfast, and the holiday music that was being played over the P.A. system only enhanced the feeling of being in a kind of bubble where, now that we'd claimed the designation, we could interact as a couple without anyone caring.

"Zoe?" He made the two syllables of my name into a request for more information. Well, it was better than _I do not understand._

"What happens when we get back to the ship?" I repeated, keeping my voice low. "With us, I mean. Do we pretend our relationship hasn't changed? Do we date? _Can_ we date?"

His yellow eyes weren't flickering back and forth but I could tell he was processing all my questions. Finally, he said, in a volume just as soft as mine, "We have already been 'dating' despite our mutual avoidance of the term, and I have no wish to discontinue that practice. It would be inappropriate to engage in intimate physical activity in common areas of the ship, but that is true of all couples, not just us."

"So, no making out in the turbo-lifts. Got it." I took a breath, then added, "Data, that's not something we'd do _anyway._ That's not…us. I just…I want to know if I'm allowed to…I don't know…hold your hand if we go for a walk in the arboretum. I want to know what the ground rules are."

He answered by lifting my left hand from the table, and twining his fingers with mine. "I cannot give you 'ground rules' for a situation that is both new to, and specific to, the two of us. I believe we will have to 'play it by ear,' and figure it out together."

I stared at our interlinked hands and he followed my gaze, but instead of making the observation that we probably couldn't hold hands that way in Ten-Forward, I said, "You keep surprising me with how tactile you are. Last night, the way you held me. Ever since September you've been apparently fascinated by my hair. Right now…"

"Perhaps that is a subject best addressed in a less public venue," he suggested.

I smiled, and added the hint of a teasing lilt to my voice when I answered, "Perhaps it is."

 **(=A=)**

An hour or so later, we had retrieved my suitcase and cello from temporary storage, and were seated in the arrivals lounge, waiting for my father. "You really don't have to wait with me," I said. "He'll be here any minute, and if something happened and he's held up at home, I can take the grav-train."

"You were present when I promised your mother that I would keep you safe. Considering your predilection for getting into trouble when you are unaccompanied on space stations, it would be remiss of me to allow you to come to harm before you have had a chance to experience your requisite amounts of 'sun, sand, and surf.'"

"I traveled to the college fair and back to the ship without a minder," I pointed out. "And nothing happened. If you're so keen on being close to me, you could just come join us for Christmas."

"As we have discussed, I am the featured speaker at the cybernetics conference on Kneriad. I cannot renege on my commitment to be there merely because the woman in my life wishes it so."

I didn't blush at the phrase, but I did shift a little bit closer to him, and I did slip my hand back into his. Here, on my homeworld, we were still in that bubble. "Is that what I am?" I asked softly. " _The_ woman in your life?"

"Did we not clarify only yesterday that we are a couple?" he asked, his voice equally quiet. "Did we not, just this morning, begin to determine how we would present ourselves when we have returned to the _Enterprise_?"

"Have I mentioned lately that your habit of being right all the time is kind of frustrating?" I was only half-teasing.

Data's response was as calm and measured as ever. "You have not, however I am quite certain that it is a sentiment you are likely to repeat with great frequency."

"Probably," I agreed breezily. "But if you ever get tired of hearing it, you can shut me up by kissing me," I teased.

"I will endeavor to remember that," came his light response. "Perhaps I should do so preemptively."

I turned my head sharply toward him, unsure if he was teasing me again, or not. His yellow eyes betrayed nothing, of course. "Data…?"

His kiss was gentle, sweet – faint hints of lemon, sugar, and butter layered over the usual nut-like essence of him – and brief. "In my study of humanoid romantic liaisons," he said, "the 'farewell kiss' is included as a meaningful ritual." His head tilted slightly, his brows lifting – a subtler version of the expression I'd come to think of as _Exposition Man_. "While my modesty protocols require that any public displays of affection are…I believe you would say _tame_ …I am aware that a proper goodbye is important to you."

"But if it's not important to you…" I began.

" _You_ are important to me, Zoe. Kissing you 'goodbye' is one of the ways I can reassure you of that fact."

"God," I said. "It's like…once you made the decision that we could be a couple, you were all in." The poker reference caused a faint flicker of surprise in his expression. "You never do _anything_ by halves, do you?"

"No, Zoe," he said. "I do not." He hesitated. "However, I also do not wish for your father to arrive while we are in an intimate posture. I would prefer to speak with him about…us…before he is confronted with the image of an android kissing his daughter."

"Never would have pegged you for a prude, Data." I snarked, but we both knew I didn't really mean it.

Still, he answered the statement. "I am not," he said. "But I have been a parent, and I have first-hand experience with such a scenario."

"Sounds like there's a story there," I said.

"There is," he confirmed, and proceeded to tell me about Lal's experiment with kissing Will Riker in Ten-Forward.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry, Data. I'm sure it was distressing for you, and confusing for Lal _and_ Commander Riker, but the image of a young woman lifting him off his feet in the middle of the lounge is all kinds of hilarious."

He seemed to process that for a fraction of a second. "Ah!" he said, delighted by sudden understanding. "A physical representation of irony of situation. Yes, I can see how it would be considered humorous."

I grinned at him, and pecked him on the cheek. Then I stood up. "You know my father – watch for him? I need to use the restroom."

"I will remain here," he promised.

 **(=A=)**

It's really wrong when the toilets in a spaceport bathroom are more comfortable than the chairs in the waiting area. It was equally wrong that I was suddenly nervous about going back out there and sitting next to Data. My father would know, wouldn't he, that we weren't just teacher and student anymore? He'd be able to tell that we were more, that we were… _real_.

I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My lipstick was smeared. I fixed it, but lingered there. God, my lips really _were_ swollen. I looked…I looked about as well-kissed as a person can look. I retrieved a couple of moist towelettes from the dispenser knowing that if my makeup was smeared Data was probably wearing some of it, but I still remained there for the length of three songs.

Somewhat ironically, the last song was an instrumental piece I was pretty sure my father had composed, arranged, and conducted.

As I approached our seats, I saw that my father had arrived, and that he and Data were standing, and chatting.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted. "Love the jacket." It was red, and suede, and swirled like a cape. "Very seasonal."

"Ho, ho, merry, merry," he replied, and pulled me into a one-armed hug. His other hand was holding my cello. "Sorry for the delay; Gia was napping and I didn't want to leave until she was awake."

"Is she doing okay?" I asked. "I thought she was ready to pop."

"I had not realized Gia was that close to her due date," Data said. "Congratulations on the impending arrival of your son or daughter."

"Thank you," my father answered. "Technically she's got another ten days or so. She's tired a lot, but she's fine." He grinned, "Of course, _this_ one was so impatient to get out into the world that she arrived two weeks ahead of schedule, and she hasn't slowed down since." He snuggled me close again.

Data and I shared a look, but then he addressed my father. "I have observed that Zoe is usually 'ahead of the game.' I had not realized it was a trait she was born with."

My father looked sharply at Data, and for a moment, I wondered if he'd noticed the barely-evident trace of berry pink lipstick on my…on his mouth. But all he said was, "Yes. Yes she is, and yes she was." He released the arm he'd wrapped around me, and extended his hand toward Data. "Thank you for delivering my precious cargo, Commander. You have our address?"

Data met my father's hand and shook it firmly and crisply. "I was happy to have Zoe's company, sir." He shifted his gaze slightly, including me as he said, "I will see you on the 29th."

I knew my face was betraying my reaction to that statement, but I didn't care. "Really?" I asked. "You'll stay through that weekend? You'll be at our New Year's Eve party?"

"I will be there," Data confirmed. He stepped away from us, and I grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

"Knock 'em dead at the conference, Data," I said, as my father turned toward the exit doors. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Zoe, Maestro."

Somehow, I knew Data wouldn't leave until I was out of sight, so when we reached the doors, I stopped. "Dad, I forgot something. I'll be right back."

"Don't be long," he said with fake exasperation coloring his tone. "I'm in short-term parking."

"I won't." I thrust the handle of my suitcase into his hand, and ran back toward Data.

"Zoe," he said, catching me as I nearly barreled into him. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly," I grinned. I handed him the wrapped towelettes that I'd palmed earlier. "You're wearing bits of my lipstick, is all." I gave him a very quick hug. "Sorry. Bye." Then I dashed back to my father.

"I suppose you forgot to tell him that pink isn't his color?" Dad asked me in his driest tone.

I blushed. "You noticed that?"

"The last I heard, you'd thrown a cello at him. Now I see traces of your lipstick on his face, and body language doesn't lie, Zoetrope. We'll talk in the car."

I had no doubt that we would.

 **(=A=)**

My father listened as I explained everything that had happened since I'd returned to the _Enterprise_ after my summer on Earth. Not sure what my mother had shared, and what she hadn't, I told him about Lore and the tongue stud and –

"He pierced your tongue?" my father asked, his face darkening. "And you're still wearing that thing."

I flicked my piercing back and forth in my mouth. "What, this one? No. Data and I managed to remove the original; this one is just because I thought it was cool…and since the hole was already there, why not?"

"As a performer, you really should avoid permanently marking your body," he said.

"It's a piercing inside my mouth, Dad. Completely removable, and if I leave it out for any length of time, the hole will totally heal. It's not like I had my ears pointed, or implanted antennae in my skull, or got a tattoo." All of those were common body modifications. Of the three, the latter was the only one I'd ever considered.

"Alright," he said. "That's reasonable." Then he smirked. "It must have driven your mother crazy."

I laughed. "She said the same thing about you!"

The conversation got lighter after that, with Dad confessing, "I'm not surprised, Zoe. I liked your friend T'vek, and I didn't mind Theo, but I knew neither of them would last. You're all too similar. Young. Hot-headed."

"I'm getting better about the last bit," I said. "Slowly. And the young part…well…I can't exactly control that. Wish I could."

"Don't rush, darling. You'll get there. But as I was saying, I'm not surprised. You and your Commander Data played music together too well for people who were merely friends – yes, I know, nothing happened until fairly recently – but the currents were still there. But did you have to fall for a Starfleet officer?"

I goggled at my father, who, fortunately, had to keep his eyes on the road, as holiday traffic had us restricted to ground mode. "I was expecting you to have an issue with Data being older, and an android, not that he's in Starfleet."

"I think an older partner is good for you," my father said. "He'll ground you…temper some of your impulsiveness, if you let him. As to being an android…I've spent enough time with him to know that whatever issues that involves, the two of you will work out between you, if you want your relationship to survive. And at least he can't get you pregnant."

"Dad!" I wasn't sure if I was amused or horrified by his statement. It was probably a bit of both. I took a breath, then explained, "First, I've been on birth control for almost a year, so even if he was biologically capable, it wouldn't be an issue, and second…we're not…we haven't…" I stammered to a halt, because suddenly the bubble I'd been in for the last day and a half had burst, and everything was all too real.

"Zoetrope?" my father asked gently, sensing my change in mood.

"Data and I aren't having sex, Dad," I said after about a minute. My voice was calm and steady, even though my nerves were jangling. "Not yet, anyway. Mom made him promise we wouldn't go there until I was eighteen."

"I doubt you'll stick to that," he said softly. "I saw the way he looked at you."

"Data is the third in command of the flagship. He's the only sentient android in Starfleet, and one of only two in the whole Federation, and the other one is a sadistic psycho-droid." I was exaggerating slightly. Lore probably wasn't actually sadistic, just unstable. "For him to even take the risk to be with me…it's not just…it _matters_ , Dad."

"Of course it does, darling. You're meant for each other."

I reached across the gap between our seats, and squeezed my father's upper arm. "Thanks, Daddy." I said. "But…it's more than that. Data says we're not in a race…and he's right. I don't want to rush things with him. Tev and I…it was fast and intense and I don't have any regrets, but…we would never have lasted even if his family hadn't been PCSd. Mom said…mom said he was a really good first lover for me, and she had a point. And…I'm not saying Data and I are forever…I mean…I'm really young, and in some ways, he is, too, and it's far too new to even plan much ahead, but…" I hesitated, not sure what I meant to say. "But I need the freedom to explore it, and I need you to trust me, and trust him."

I wasn't accustomed to being quite this open with my father, but on some level, I knew I had to be. It was the only way he'd be on my – _our_ – side. I was silent for a long moment, waiting, but my father was the one who spoke first.

"It's not like I have the right to judge you, Zoetrope," he said. "Gia and I are separated by a lot more years than you and Data." We shared a laugh at that, but my father sobered quickly. "I do have one more concern," he said. "What are you doing about your math class?"

"Actually," I said. "I had an idea about that while Data and I were having breakfast this morning, but there's someone I need to talk to about it before I can even bring it up with him. Do you mind if I place a subspace comm-call to the _Enterprise_ when we get home?"

"Of course not, but you will clue me in, won't you?"

"As soon as I have the answer I need, yes."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" my father asked. In that moment, when he offered to help me find my own solution to a problem, rather than just fixing it for me, I knew I'd grown up, at least in his eyes.

"Not really, but if you want to be extra-sweet to your favorite daughter you could stop at Red Sands on the way home. I'm _dying_ for a peppermint mocha."

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

 **(=A=)**

Coffee was acquired, and then we made a stop at the grocery store to get a few 'emergency' items for Gia. By the time we got home, I was pretty tired, so I excused myself to take a nap until dinner.

Once in my room, I fired up the comm system and placed my call.

 _\- U.S.S._ _ **Enterprise,**_ _Ensign Barnett here. How may I help you?_

"Ray?" I beamed. "Hey, it's Zoe."

\- _You made it safely to Centaurus? How was the trip?_

"Eventful. But the details will have to wait. Can you route me to Lt. Commander La Forge, please? It's personal."

\- _Sure thing, Zoe_ , my friend answered. _Transferring you now._

Twenty minutes later, Geordi had agreed to the solution to my math class issue pending approval from Data. I just had to pitch it to him. I thought about calling him, but I didn't want to distract him from his conference, and I really was tired. I sent a text-only message to my mother confirming that I'd arrived safely, and then I sent a similar one to Data: "Home. Safe. Good luck on your presentation. Love, Zoe."

* * *

 **Notes:** I forgot to mention that "Space is big. Really big," from the prologue is from Douglas Adams's, _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._ The song lyrics at the beginning are from "Song for a Winter's Night," which was originally written and performed by Gordon Lightfoot in 1967. Most contemporary listeners are probably more familiar with the version recorded by Sarah McLachlan. It will recur during the next two chapters of Auld Lang Syne (Part I). Zoe's German pancake is a riff on the way the full-sized Dutch Babies are served at Ol' South Pancake House in Fort Worth, Texas. These are really more crepe than pancake and are baked in an iron skillet. Kneriad is a world completely made up by me. Lal kissed Riker in the episode, "The Offspring."


	3. Song For a Winter's Night (Part II)

**_Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS owns everything from canon; I own the rest. Reviews and chocolate are welcome (I prefer the latter to be dark)._**

* * *

 **Song for a Winter's Night – Part II**

 _The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead_

 _My glass is almost empty_

 _I read again between the lines upon each page_

 _The words of love you sent me_

 _If I could know within my heart, that you were lonely too_

 _I would be happy just to hold the hands I love_

 _On this winter night with you_

 **Beach Haven, Centaurus**

 **Stardate 44992.57 (Friday, 29 December 2367, 7:00 AM local time)**

I was in the shower when Data arrived at our house.

Beach Haven, on the coast of the continent of Great Oreas, had a climate that wasn't all that different from Santa Cruz, California, on Earth, which meant the winters were usually wet and cool but not cold. Every once in a while there would be an off-season hot spell, and we'd been in one since the day after I'd arrived. Oh, we had weather nets to ensure a reasonable distribution of rain and lessen the effects of really dangerous weather, but hot spells were considered normal, and weren't generally tampered with.

Translation: It was already twenty-eight degrees at seven in the morning, and I had already done dawn patrol surfing with some of my local friends, and come home sweaty, salty, and starving. As I shut off the water (oh, blissful, blissful water) I heard the doorbell ring and yelled, "Dad, I'm not dressed! Get the door!" because when he was in the kitchen he tended to forget that the rest of the world existed. He was like that when he was composing music, too, actually, but less so when he was playing it.

I heard my father's muffled acknowledgement, vaguely heard the front door opening and closing, and two voices in conversation, but it was early so I assumed it was one of my cousins coming to check on Gia. Instead, my father's voice came shouting up through the house. "Zoetrope, get a move on, would you? Your Mr. Data has arrived, and breakfast is in fifteen minutes."

Normally, I would have put a fresh bikini on and thrown shorts over it, but lately, I'd been trying to dress a little bit less like a kid. On the other hand, it was already too hot for the sort of clothing we'd typically be wearing at that time of year. I chose a skirt that was light enough for the weather, but not too summery, and a blouse that I tied at my waist. My hair was still damp, and I wasn't wearing any makeup, but I slid my feet into sandals and dashed down the main stairway, and through the house to the kitchen.

"Ah, here's my mermaid," Dad teased as I entered the room. "Did you leave any hot water for the rest of us?"

"A little," I answered, matching his jesting tone. I turned to our guest. "Data, you said you weren't likely to arrive 'til afternoon." I stepped closer to him, not sure if I should hug him, kiss him, or do neither. "I'm glad you're early."

"I was able to leave Kneriad earlier than I had anticipated," he answered mildly. "I was not certain it was early enough to warrant calling ahead."

I shook my head. "No complaints here. Why don't I show you where you're staying while Dad puts the finishing touches on breakfast?" I glanced at my father for his approval of my plan, and he winked at me.

"That would be acceptable," Data said. "Maestro," he added, nodding to my father.

"Call me Zach," my father corrected.

"If you will call me Data," came the smooth response.

I turned around and led Data back the way I'd come. "It's actually faster to take the back stairs from the kitchen," I said. "But it's prettier this way, and you should get to experience it at least once. Besides, the main stairs are wide enough to do this." Taking his hand, I led him up the steps to the balcony and then left and up three more steps, "The middle one creaks, but it's not dangerous or anything," I pointed out, as we entered the family wing. "My room is here, and yours connects to it through the bathroom." I led him through the door into the sitting room of my two-room suite, then through my bedroom, and the bathroom, and into the pair of rooms we'd made up for him. "Sorry about the sharing-a-bathroom thing, but Gia's parents are due here tomorrow, and the suite closest to the master has been remodeled into a nursery."

"We have shared a much smaller bathroom before," he observed softly. "Please do not concern yourself. I am certain I will be quite comfortable."

"I hope so," I said. "There isn't a lot to do in the middle of the night, and I don't want you to be bored or…" I stopped myself. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous about…in the shuttle it was like we were in this romantic bubble, and now I'm not sure how to _be_ with you." I paused. "Should I have hugged you, earlier? Should I have kissed you? I wanted both."

"Zoe…" The firmness of his tone silenced me, and I turned to face him. "If you are not comfortable with my presence in your home, I do not have to remain."

"I'm not uncomfortable with you being here," I said. "I'm _glad_ you're here. I'm just…a little overwhelmed."

"According to my research," he said after a beat, "'hello' kisses are also important rituals among couples."

I stepped closer to him, and smiled up into his yellow eyes. God, I loved his eyes. "Can we start this again?" I asked, and waited for his brief nod. I slid my hands up his chest and behind his neck. "Hi," I said, feeling just a little bit shy, a little bit silly.

"Hi," he answered in kind, looking down into my eyes. The word didn't fit well in his mouth, but it didn't matter, because his hands went to my waist and our lips met in a brief, sweet, kiss, and then I stepped backwards, and gave him a light shove.

"I definitely prefer 'hello' to 'goodbye,'" I told him. "Feel free to unpack or freshen up if you need to. I'll be downstairs. From here, you can either take the main stairs – reverse the way we came up – or go across the landing to the back stairs at the other end of the house."

"I will find my way, Zoe," he assured.

I was certain that he would.

 **(=A=)**

"So what are you two doing today?" Gia asked as we ate the meal my father had prepared. "Personally, I plan to curl up with a good book while Zach waits on me hand and foot."

"Whatever Data wants," I said. When all three of my tablemates favored at me with their respective 'surprised' expressions (Data's was much more subtle than Gia's or my father's), I shrugged. "Data's the guest here, not me, and he should get to choose our activity." I focused my attention on my android - I couldn't really call him my boyfriend, could I? – friend. "The museum of holographic art is interesting, and the music museum has a traveling display of Vulcan harps right now," I said.

My father caught Data's eye and grinned. "Zoe's suggesting things that require driving, so she has an excuse to use the Christmas present we got her."

"You passed your licensing exam then?" Data asked, his tone one of delight. "Congratulations. I was certain you would do well."

"It was actually kind of hilarious," I told him. "My examiner was this really nervous man named Carl who reminded me a lot of Lt. Barclay, though, oddly, his demeanor made _me_ feel more confident. It was almost like something in me decided that someone had to be the competent adult in the vehicle, and since it clearly wasn't going to be him, it might as well have been me."

"But the actual test was uneventful?" he asked.

"Cake," I said. "It was cake. Actually, the best part was at the end when I gave him the documentation of instruction hours and required practice time, and he read Geordi's name and title on the form."

"You must be sure to relay that to Geordi when we return to the _Enterprise._ "

"Oh, don't worry; I will."

"You know, what you two could do," my father suggested after a few minutes, "is visit the music museum, then stop on your way back to pick up the sparklers."

"Zach, really, don't make Zoe do errands on her vacation. Not while her beau is here."

I turned sharply to Gia. "I'm sorry, did you just refer to Data as my 'beau'?"

My stepmother smiled softly at me. "I wasn't sure of the exact nature of your relationship," she said.

"Data, are you my 'beau'?" I asked, partly teasing him with the antiquated term, and partly wondering if he'd found a label for us, yet. Not that we'd discussed it. "

"'Beau,'" Data repeated, and I could tell a list of synonyms was about to follow. "'Boyfriend, cavalier, escort, flame, honey, gentleman caller, paramour, partner, suitor, sweetheart.' There are many options, Zoe. Is there a term you prefer?"

Dad and Gia were both chuckling, and I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks. I stood up and began collecting plates – we'd all long since finished eating – and loading them into the dishwasher. "Beau's good," I decided. "For the moment." I wasn't ready to claim 'boyfriend' despite the acceptance of us as a couple. "But don't be surprised if you see me in a corset and hoop skirts." I started the 'clean' cycle, and returned to the table, "Is there something in particular you'd like to do, Data?"

"How would you spend the day if I were not here?" he asked.

"She'd be in the water," Dad and Gia said together. "Or on it, if not in it," my stepmother continued.

"Zoe's mother and I were always half-convinced she really _was_ part-mermaid when she was little," my father elaborated, not caring whether or not he was embarrassing me. "She was swimming before she could walk, and surfing before she could ride a bike."

"Dad," I interrupted, "I'm sure Data really doesn't need to know every hobby I've ever had."

"Oh, no, Zoetrope. You bring home a _beau_ , you have to suffer through listening to me tell baby stories."

"Dad!"

"Zoe, why don't you come chat with me for a bit?" Gia suggested, pushing herself away from the table. "Let your father and your Mr. Data have their conversation."

I rolled my eyes at her, but then I remembered that Data had mentioned wanting to speak with my father, and I rose to follow her. "Sure," I said. "Why don't we get you settled in the den? It's more comfortable there." Gia lumbered out of the kitchen, and I touched Data's shoulder as I passed him. "Come find me when you're through?"

He met my eyes and gave a curt nod.

 **(=A=)**

Two hours later, Data and I were on a ferry heading out to the Oreas Light – the lighthouse on one of the nearby offshore islands. It wasn't really in use as a navigational beacon any more, but it still hosted a science center, nature park, and one of the best restaurants on all Centaurus. We'd chosen this activity after I'd checked the weather, and learned that our summery temperatures were likely to be gone by morning.

I leaned against the rail, enjoying the ocean spray against my skin, while Data, in his uniform, stood a little bit further back. It wasn't the high season for tourism, so we had the boat almost to ourselves, even with the unseasonably warm weather.

"Are you afraid of getting wet?" I asked him, glancing backwards. I was mostly teasing, but it occurred to me that I had no idea if he was waterproof – water resistant – whatever.

"I am incapable of experiencing fear, Zoe," he reminded me gently, but he came closer to the rail and stood next to me. "You appear to be enjoying yourself."

"I love the water," I said. "Sailing, swimming, surfing – I'm not picky. But…I wanted to do something you'd enjoy, and somehow I don't think this is working."

"Your assessment is incorrect," he said. "I am pleased to be learning more about how you lead your life away from the _Enterprise_ , and I am looking forward to seeing the lighthouse and the nature park."

I turned around so my back was leaning against the rail. The temperature ashore had been hot, but here on the water, it was much cooler. Still, looking at Data in his uniform made me wonder, "Aren't you hot?"

"I do not perceive heat and cold the same way you do," came his answer. "I can discern the ambient temperature, of course, but, in order for me to experience discomfort, it would have to be significantly hotter or colder than the typical range that humanoid life can survive."

That made sense, but still. "Looking at you in all your layers, makes _me_ feel hot," I confessed. "Data, do you even own civilian clothes?"

"I have never required any. When I use the holodeck, appropriate attire is replicated for me, and as most of my activities are related to my role as a Starfleet officer, civilian clothing has never been necessary."

"What about when you're on leave – like now?"

"I rarely use my accrued leave," he answered. "When I have, it has usually been to attend conferences or pursue personal projects without leaving the _Enterprise_."

"So, wait...what about when you were at the Academy? Summers and holidays? Didn't you go home with classmates, ever?"

"I did not." From anyone else the simple answer would have been laced with pain. From him, there was maybe a slight hint of wistfulness, but nothing else. Nevertheless, the isolation he must have experienced hit me hard. "So this weekend is…?" I began.

"The first time I have ever 'visited a friend,'" he completed for me. "Yes, Zoe."

"And I dragged you on a boat, when you're so not water-guy or beach-guy." I was suddenly mortified. "We can do a turnaround. Skip the lighthouse and the park and go to a museum. The science center is…"

"That will not be necessary." He stepped closer to me, into my personal space. "If you would like to take me to the beach later today or tomorrow, I will embrace the experience. I accepted the invitation to join you for the holiday in order to spend time with _you_. To see the things that are meaningful to you is enjoyable for me, because it gives me insight into the woman I spend so much time with. If there was a proposed activity that I truly did not wish to participate in, I _would_ tell you."

I was quiet for a long moment, watching him, weighing options. Then I smiled. "Okay." I turned around again, but this time he stayed close to me. Looking out at the water I said, "But you cannot wear your uniform to the beach. And next vacation, you choose the destination."

His reply came as a whisper in my right ear, "I accept."

 **(=A=)**

We spent the morning at the lighthouse, joining a tour that was about to start, and hearing all about how the early human settlers of Centaurus were people who had worked on or near the sea on Earth. Because our planet had so many island-continents, it seemed obvious that there would be a thriving coastal community, and they weren't wrong. As people had moved inland, arts and music had also flourished, to the point that my homeworld had become the Federation's center for holographic design and rivalled only Earth for music and theater instructions and opportunities.

The lighthouse, our guide explained, was built as much as a reminder of marine history, as it was for practical use. "And when the weather nets go down, we still activate the various lighthouses around the planet," our guide added at the end. "Though we no longer have any keepers in residence." The guide let us all have several minutes to explore, or just to enjoy the view. Then it was time to go.

Slowly and carefully, we all climbed down from the tower, me being extra cautious because sandals really weren't meant for such activities. Salty, damp metal was more slippery than most people realized. I noticed Data helping some of the other members of the tour as they descended the spiraling steps, and I paused to watch him: if there was a poster for 'gracious,' his face would have to be on it.

We left the lighthouse and walked down the path that wound through the nature park to the café at the bottom of the cliffs, built right on the beach. We saw many kinds of birds, some of which I would have missed if Data hadn't seen them first, and directed me where to look, and he didn't seem to mind when I spent time playing with the Orean singing rays in the tide pool exhibit.

At the café, we shared a pot of strong black tea, and I had a bowl of their clam chowder, and we talked more about Centauran culture and what it had been like growing up here, as opposed to Data's four years at the Academy, being isolated in a sea of people.

At one point I stared at him and said, "You crave it, don't you? Connection. Belonging. Family."

"I would not use the word 'crave,'" he said softly. "But those wishes are not unknown to me."

"You already have a family," I pointed out. "Actually, you have two."

"I…am not certain I understand."

The deviation from his standard response didn't go unnoticed, but I chose to concentrate on the conversation we were already having. "You have the chosen family of the people on the _Enterprise_ – Geordi and Commander Riker and Counselor Troi, and your other friends there. You also have…" I hesitated slightly. Was it too soon to claim this? "You also have me. My family."

"Thank you, Zoe," Data began, but whatever he was going to add was cut off by the whistle blast announcing boarding for the ferry. "That is our boat," he said.

We left our table, paid for the soup and tea, and walked out of the café and down to the secondary pier, our hands finding each other as we moved. Such a little thing as holding his hand in public shouldn't have given me such a thrill…should it?

If I was pensive on the boat ride home, Data chose not to comment, merely sitting with me on one of the benches on deck. I'd had enough salt spray in my face for one day. It would have been nice if he'd put his arm around me, but he didn't offer, and even though I was sure he wouldn't refuse, I didn't feel like asking. Even without that kind of contact though, our silence was an easy one. Comfortable.

Back on the mainland, the temperature had climbed even higher, and all I could think about was going home and plunging into the pool, but I also knew that there would be extra people arriving at the house over the next few days, and that meant having a few extra treats around. As we got into my flitter, I asked, "Do you mind if we make a stop on the way home?"

"I do not," he said.

It was weird being the one at the controls, but he'd insisted he trusted me, and while he did give me a couple of pointers about smoothing out the transition from ground mode to flight mode, he assured me that he had no complaints, otherwise. I turned inland for about fifteen minutes, then landed in the parking lot for Brolly's farmstand. "I want to get some extra fruit for the weekend," I explained. "And Brolly's is also the best source for bagels on the continent."

He watched as I picked out a variety of native and introduced produce – mostly berries and melons – and then added a dozen 'everything' bagels and two tubs of homemade cream cheese. My friend Kell was working the check stand, and she held the line to ask me how I was doing, and how long I'd be home. "We're gathering at Surfside at dawn on Sunday, if you're interested," she invited.

"I'll think about it," I said. On the one hand, I wanted to surf with my friends while I had the chance. On the other, I didn't want to waste a second of Data's visit. "Oh, hey, you need to meet someone. Data – this is Kell. She's one of my oldest friends."

"Hiya," Kell greeted him, extending her hand.

He met her handshake. "It is good to meet you."

Kell grinned, "Welcome to Beach Haven. Any friend of Zoe's, and all that. Oh, Zoe…Kavan's been asking about you…wanting to know if you're back."

"Back," I said. "And completely unavailable."

Kell looked from me to Data and back. "So, wait, are you two _together_? Because I have to say, I think Zoe's better off with someone older. Not that you're old-old."

I deferred to Data for the answer, mainly because I was laughing at my friend. Data said, "Yes. We are together," and then took the boxes of produce from the counter. "Allow me."

Kell mouthed _nice_ to me, and we chatted a few minutes more, and then turned to go. "Hey, Zo'. Tell Gia good luck!"

"I'll do that," I promised."

"What is Surfside?" Data asked as we got back to the flitter, and he'd placed my purchases in the cargo space.

"It's the beach on the other side of the yacht club," I said. "Massive swell at this time of year, especially at dawn. New Year's Eve morning, everyone who's anyone meets there for an informal surf-off, then we all go to breakfast."

"You wish to go." He wasn't asking.

"Well, yeah, but…" I took a breath. "I'm also really enjoying spending time with you without duty and school stuff getting in the way. You're welcome to come, if you want. You don't have to actually surf. You can watch – lots of people just hang on the beach – or, if you want to participate we do tow-surfing, so if you're into driving a jet ski…?"

"I will consider the options you have offered, and let you know," he said.

"Fair enough." I turned the flitter for home.

The house was empty when we got home. Empty and dark. But when I walked through to the kitchen to put the produce away, I saw my personal communicator and a message tag on the table. I picked up the tag first, and pressed the button to read the message. "Data!" I called.

He didn't come running, but he appeared in the kitchen faster than any human would have. "Zoe, is something wrong?"

"Well, I'm going to be yelled at for leaving my comm at home, but other than that…Gia's in labor. They want me at the hospital."

"I will come with you."

"You don't have to…" I began, but the truth was, I wanted him there. "I need to go change. Hospitals are always chilly, and I'd rather be comfortable, than not. I grabbed my communicator, and called my father while I walked upstairs to change, returning a few minutes later having replaced my skirt with a pair of jeans, and my sandals with regular shoes. "Would you mind driving?" I asked. "I'm too excited to focus."

He didn't mind.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 44994.53**

 **(Saturday, 30 December 2367, 12:08 AM, local time)**

By midnight, I was pretty bored, even with Data and my father for company. Dad kept going into Gia's room to see if she needed anything, but she had a team of medical professionals, as well as a hired doula, and she kept sending him back out, promising he'd be called in 'when it was time,' though she did emerge for a couple of sessions of walking up and down the corridors – apparently that was supposed to help.

At one point, Dad came out of the room and asked me to go in. I was a little nervous – Gia and I weren't close, though we were beginning to forge a solid friendship – but it's bad etiquette to argue with a woman in labor, so I went in, sat on the edge of her bed, and doled out ice chips while she talked to me.

"Zoe," she said between contractions. "I'm really glad you're here. Zach wasn't sure you'd come, but I told him it was important…you're part of the family, and you need to bond with your little brother."

"It's a boy?" I asked. "I thought you chose not to know."

She laughed. "Your father chose…. I _needed_ to know."

"So he has no clue?"

"Nope."

I grinned. "Go, Gia. Way to join the dark side."

"I don't want you thinking of him as a half-brother. Family is family. He's a whole person. You're a whole person." She paused while a contraction moved through her, caught her breath, and then continued, "Are you okay with that?"

I opted for honesty. "I'll try to be." I offered her some more ice. "Have you picked names?"

"Your father wants a Z-name. I want something Italian."

"If you name him 'Zeppo' I'm disowning the lot of you," I threatened, teasing her. "You could always give him an Italian middle name."

"We thought about that. Guess it will be a surprise."

"I guess so…"

"You're uncomfortable being here," she said. "It's okay. I would be, too. Just know that…your father loves you. And I love you, too, and this baby is going to adore his big sister."

I couldn't tell her I loved her, too, because I wasn't sure I did. I mean, she and Dad had only been married a year, and she'd been sprung on me with little warning. Instead I said, "I know that. And…thank you."

She laughed. "Alright, go back to your beau. I like him, by the way. He's good for you."

I smiled. "Yeah, he is," and left the room with the realization that 'beau' was going to be a family in-joke possibly for the rest of my life.

 **(=A=)**

Shortly after midnight the endless waiting became a little less endless. Dad was called into the room apparently to stay. I'd been sleepy, dozing on one of the couches while Data and my father had chatted about trends in music composition, but suddenly, I was completely awake again, and I moved to sit next to Data. "Thank you for being here. I know this isn't the visit you signed up for."

"I 'signed up' to spend time with you, as we have been doing. If I can also be a support to your family, I am happy to do so."

"Is it wrong that part of me didn't want to be here? In the hospital, I mean."

"May I ask why?"

"There's a part of me," I said, keeping my voice low, "that still feels like Dad is creating a whole replacement family. Gia's his replacement wife, and the baby will be his replacement kid, and there won't be room for me. I'm happy for them – I really am – but I kind of resent it, too."

"All available evidence shows that your father and Gia want you to be included in their family, and a vital part of your new sibling's life. Has something else led you to the conclusion that –"

"No…" I interrupted. "This is a purely emotional reaction. Not an intellectual one. Anyway, it's not like I actually live here full-time anymore, and even if I did, I'll be going away to college in less than two years…things would have changed. It's just…I don't know…" I was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then I said. "Don't faint, but I kind of feel like I understand Lore a little better. He was also the older sibling, and he really _was_ replaced, by you."

"That is true, but in his case, it was necessary as he was a danger to himself and others."

"I know that. And I know he's turned the same yearnings you have – home, family, connection, belonging – into something dark and twisted. I'm not saying I agree with what he does. And I'm certainly not complaining about _your_ father's choice to create you – though I'm a little biased where you're concerned. I'm just saying…I guess I don't see him as so much of a demon anymore."

"He was never a demon," Data agreed. "But he is dangerous, and I am still working to determine his plan."

I nodded. "I know." I yawned, and fidgeted next to him on the sofa. "Lift your arm."

"Zoe?"

"I'm tired and chilly; you're here, and solid, and warm."

"Ah." He lifted his arm, and drew me close so I could lean against his chest. "Is that better?"

"Much." I nestled against him, wrapping my own arms around his middle. "Much better."

He squeezed my shoulder very gently, and kissed my head, and said, "Rest."

 **(=A=)**

I'm not sure if it was Data, urging me to wake up, my father calling my name, or the arc of lightning that flashed outside the waiting room window, but around 1:30, I was shaking my head to clear it, and stretching slightly.

"Zoe," my father said again. "Do you want to meet your baby brother?"

"Ah," Data said before I could answer. "It is a boy. Congratulations."

"Thank you," my father told him. "Zoe? Actually, both of you should come."

I stood up and followed my father into the delivery room, where a mother and baby who both looked way more tired than I felt were propped up in a freshly made bed. "Hey," I said. "We heard there was a new member of the Harris family."

Gia smiled softly at my teasing. "He's anxious to meet his sister," she said. I stepped closer to the bed, and she showed off her tiny pink bundle. "Meet David Ezekiel Harris," she said. "He'll go by Zeke."

"David isn't Italian," I pointed out. But I leaned closer to examine the baby, and decided I approved. "It sounds good together, though."

"No, actually…we decided to name him after another new member of the family."

My father took over, "Data, whatever the future holds for you and my daughter, you're important to her, and therefore you're important to us. Besides, she wouldn't have survived the last year without your friendship."

"Daddy, that's so sweet."

Data's eyes were as wide as I'd ever seen them. "I am honored, Zach, Gia."

I reached behind me for Data's hand, felt him move closer to me. "I have a baby brother," I said, in a weird tone that was a combination of sleep and pride. "Isn't that just stellar?"

"Indubitably," he said.

Not long after that, my father made the strong suggestion that Data take me back to the house, and I was as happy to agree as he was to oblige. Dad and Gia would be with Zeke in the hospital overnight.

 **(=A=)**

I was happy to let Data take the controls of my flitter, and pilot us home. The lightning I'd seen before had been only the beginning of a storm, and I would have been nervous driving in actual weather.

When we got to the house, and I'd made sure all the doors and windows were locked, I headed upstairs to change. "I'm getting ready for bed," I said. "Come and say goodnight in a few minutes?"

"I will do so."

But once I had changed, I was more wired than tired, and when Data knocked on the door from the bathroom, I had started a video on the entertainment system in my room. Some holiday musical thing about people meeting at the World's Fair, whatever that was.

"Hey," I said. "My brain's too spinny for sleep. Wanna watch with me a while? Just kick your boots off. There's plenty of room." I adjusted my vast array of throw pillows so he'd be able to lean against some of them, as well.

"Yes." He removed his boots, and sat, gingerly, on the edge of my bed, but after a moment's hesitation, he mimicked the way I was positioned, on top of the covers, legs crossed at the ankle, and after a few minutes more, he put his arm around me, and we shared a kiss.

As the storm raged outside, and the vid played on, I drifted to sleep cuddled against Data's chest, dimly aware that he was playing with my hair.

* * *

 **Notes:** Centauran culture and geography is based in part on Memory Beta, and several of the expanded universe novels, and partly on my own experience growing up in various coastal towns. Singing rays are completely made up (but don't they sound cool?). The video Zoe and Data watch is _Meet Me in St. Louis._ Special thanks to Throat Coat tea and Chloraseptic lozenges. Music credit is in the previous chapter.


	4. Song For a Winter's Night (Part III)

**_Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS owns everything from canon; I own the rest. Reviews and chocolate are welcome (I prefer the latter to be dark)._**

* * *

 **Song for a Winter's Night – Part III**

 _The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim_

 _The shades of night are lifting_

 _The morning light steals across my windowpane_

 _Where webs of snow are drifting_

 _If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two_

 _I would be happy just to hold the hands I love_

 _And to be once again with you_

 _On this winter night with you_

 **Beach Haven, Centaurus**

 **Stardate 44995.71 (Saturday, 30 December 2367, 10:30 AM local time)**

I woke up twice during the night. Well morning. Between the long day and the storm-dark skies, I wasn't really aware of the correct time.

The first time I woke up was probably around five, when Data clicked off the entertainment system, and gently extricated himself from my embrace. The storm had mellowed some, but it was still pouring, and there were still random flashes of lightning bringing temporary illumination to my room. His eyes almost glowed when lit by lightning.

"Stay?" I asked. I was halfway between sleep and wakefulness, and too muzzy to have any kind of filter, but we both knew I wasn't asking for sex – it was much, _much_ too soon for that level of physical intimacy – and besides, there was no way our first time together was going to be in my childhood bedroom, in my father's house.

Even if we were the only people _in_ the house, at the time.

Still, he promised, "I will return." He disappeared through the bathroom to his room, and I pushed back the covers so I could slide into the bed properly, pulling them back over me.

When Data returned, he was wearing something that looked like pajamas, and he draped some other article of clothing over the back of a chair before returning to my bed. "If I limit the display on my padd to its softest illumination, will it disturb your sleep?" he asked.

"Nope," I answered groggily. "Monitor glow and keypad sounds…got used to them when I stayed with you. Miss them, sometimes."

"Very well," he said.

The second time I woke up it was just after eight – I think. On autopilot, I sipped from the water glass on my nightstand, and then rolled over and made contact with my warm, solid… _beau_.

"You're still here…" I observed stupidly, sleepily.

"Yes," Data said softly.

"Mmm. Best boyfriend ever." I was still asleep enough that I didn't even realize I'd used the word.

"I will try to be."

When I woke up for real, it was around ten in the morning, and it was because Data was calling my name. I opened my eyes to find him standing near my bed wearing a robe – or really more of a dressing gown – and holding a coffee mug. I'd seen the garment before, though never _on_ him, and it reminded me of an ancient video. "Basil Rathbone, much?" I asked, and then, as I sat up and reached for the mug, "You made me coffee?"

"I anticipated that you would require it after such a late night. Was I mistaken?"

"This is one of those times when your tendency to be frustratingly right is a blessing. Thank you." I eyed his robe again. "What's with the outfit?"

"You do not approve of Sherlock Holmes?" He seemed almost disappointed.

"Well, no. Not really. I mean, Data, he may have been an analytical whiz, but ol' Sherlock was also a drug-addled, misogynistic ass a lot of the time. The stories are…entertaining, I guess…but I've never been terribly impressed with the character, and I'm _really_ not a fan of Rathbone's portrayal. If you're into old-school, I think Jeremy Brett was much better. More recently, G'mer the Elder's interpretation was pretty compelling. Dad took me to see him perform Holmes as a one-man show a couple years ago."

"Am I to infer from your response that if I invited you to join Geordi and me for a Holmesian adventure on the holodeck you would refuse?"

"I wouldn't refuse, necessarily," I said. "If only because I'd love to see you in something other than your uniform. Until I saw you in a play, I was half convinced you showered in it. But…I thought Sherlock Holmes scenarios were banned from use on the _Enterprise_?" It was one of the program bans that had honestly surprised me. "Do you all want to avoid corrupting the ensigns with thoughts of cocaine and morphine?"

"That is not why certain aspects of the Holmes programs have been…restricted," he said.

"I'm guessing if you're invited by the ship's second officer and chief engineer, those restrictions are…unrestricted?" He took a fraction of a second to parse my grammar before confirming it with a nod. "I'd _consider_ accepting," I said. "If I could play Irene Adler. Villains are way more fun to play than heroes."

His eyes widened slightly. "I will discuss possible scenarios with Geordi when we get back to the ship."

"Deal," I said, and then added, "Thank you for the coffee. If we're going out of the house today, though, we should get moving."

 **(=A=)**

Half an hour later, the rain had finally abated, though it was still grey and chilly, and we were on Beach Haven's main street, where I was giving Data an abbreviated tour. "The bookstore – BookHaven - sells data solids and actual paper books," I said. "Sebastian's Music is one of my favorite stores. I got my very first cello here, and lots of local musicians come in and jam on weekends. It's owned by this Hamalki woman – have you met one, ever –?"

"I have not."

"They look like giant glass spiders, only they have twelve limbs and twelve eyes. I was afraid of her the first time I met her, but then she played her great harp for me, and now I stop in whenever I can. Actually, I'm going to be working for her during the rest of my break."

"Working for her?" Data asked.

"Yeah, you know, in the store. Vacation job. Basic food and clothing and education may be free, but pocket money has to come from somewhere."

"Your family does not appear to be…I believe the phrase is 'hurting for money?'"

"We're not," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Well, _they're_ not. But…I don't want to be one of those spoiled brat trust fund babies who never actually works for anything and has no idea how the real world works."

"That is an admirable attitude," he said. "But, Zoe, I believe you are overly concerned with such things. No one who knows you would ever consider you 'spoiled.'"

"Okay, maybe not 'spoiled,' but definitely 'over-privileged.' And I'm okay with that…sort of. It's just…privilege should be used to do good in the world, don't you think?"

"I agree. I am also certain that you will 'do good in the world' in your way. You have time to discover how you will do so, and I look forward to being there to see it."

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and just stared at him. "You really believe that?"

Data's answer was a simple "Yes."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. I hope I never disappoint you – oh, this is our store." We had arrived at the menswear store where most of Dad's grad students and younger musicians tended to shop, but I paused before we actually stepped through the door. "Data, I don't want you to think I'm going all crazy-obsessive girlfriend on you and dictating what you should wear, and you don't have to go through with this if you really prefer to wear uniforms all the time. I mean, I don't want you…I don't think there's anything _wrong_ with you, and I'm not trying to…" I stopped, both because it wasn't really the place for what I wanted to say, and because I wasn't even sure I was expressing myself correctly.

But he was ahead of me. "If you are attempting to assure me that you do not mean this as a criticism that I am 'not human enough,' do not worry. As I explained, I have never required civilian attire, therefore it has never been a priority to acquire any. You are a civilian, and, as I have been learning this weekend, you function in social circles that both overlap and are distinctly separate from my own. You are correct in that there are events and locations where being in uniform is neither the norm, nor entirely appropriate." He paused, and the expression on his face changed subtly, softening. "As my girlfriend, it is part of your role to offer opinions and make suggestions about such things, is it not?"

"Are we using those terms now?" I asked. "Girlfriend, boyfriend – I called you that this morning."

"And referred to yourself that way a few minutes ago," he added. "I believe they are the most appropriate commonly accepted terms for…us." He paused, as if gauging my reaction.

I stepped close to him, and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. "Alright, then, _boyfriend_ , let's go shopping." I didn't miss the brief flash of smile my comment elicited.

For the next hour or so, a bleach-blond surfer-turned-salesperson named Oscar helped Data put together a small but comprehensive civilian wardrobe, making him try on combinations and model them for me, and letting me make suggestions. I was right, in that Data looked amazing in red, and pretty hot in black, but it turned out there were certain shades of blue that worked well for his unique skin tone also.

When Data mentioned that he also needed beach attire, "appropriate for being a spectator at Surfside," Oscar directed him to the casual-wear part of the store, and then glanced over at me.

"You surf?" he asked. "Ever been to Earth? I hear the waves there are killer."

"I was practically born surfing," I answered. "And yeah, I did some surfing in Santa Cruz and Stinson Beach last summer. We didn't stay out long, though. The swell wasn't that great – it's supposed to be better in fall and winter – and the locals were saying it was kind of sharky."

"Did you see any? Sharks? I don't think I could get in the water knowing a fish was likely to eat me."

"Didn't see anything but some washed up kelp," I said. "I'm looking forward to Surfside tomorrow. Data's never seen me ride a wave."

"Dude," Oscar called in the direction of the dressing rooms, "your woman is _awesome_."

"I agree," said Data, returning from from the dressing room in a 'Hawaiian' shirt, board shorts, and…

"Data, are you wearing _sandals_? With _socks?"_

"A most peculiar form of footwear," he observed. "They do provide room for wiggling one's toes," he wiggled his to demonstrate, "but I fail to see how they protect you from sand."

"They don't, really, except to keep the soles of your feet from direct contact with really hot sand. Also, one doesn't typically wear them with socks." I took a closer look at the rest of his outfit. The shirt was pretty muted, really – cornflower blue, butter yellow, and splashes of red – somehow it worked for him. The board shorts, on the other hand did _not_. "Data, you don't tan, do you?"

"No," he said, "I do not."

"And you don't get hot. And even if you did, it won't be hot tomorrow. I think maybe we should get you one more pair of pants – khakis, maybe? – that are just slightly lighter weight. You won't look out of place, but…it's a better look for you."

"That would be acceptable."

"The sandals, I leave to you to decide about. You already added regular shoes to your collection, and I didn't mean to make you spend this much."

"Zoe, you are not _making_ me do anything," he reminded me gently.

He kept the sandals.

 _And_ he wore one of the new outfits out of the store.

 **(=A=)**

By three in the afternoon, we had enjoyed lunch at my favorite coffee bar, Red Sands, where I ended up introducing Data to half the town, stopped by a flower shop so I could pick up a card and some flowers for Gia, and we were on our way back to my flitter to go home when something caught my eye in a shop window.

"Zoe, is something wrong?" Data asked when I stopped to gaze through the glass window at the display.

I blushed. "No. Just…a piece of jewelry caught my attention. We can keep going."

He joined me at the window. "Which piece interests you?"

I pointed at a delicate necklace that combined rose gold with pink pearls. "That one. But I'm just looking; and we should really get going."

Data followed my pointed finger to the jewelry I was looking at. "It would be aesthetically pleasing against your skin," he said softly.

"Yeah, gold is totally my metal." I blushed faintly at the unintended double entendre, and directed his attention to our reflections in the glass. "We look good together."

In the glass, I saw his eyes widen slightly. "Yes," he agreed. "We do."

"We should go."

I let Data pilot the flitter the few minutes it took to get home, and was quiet on the ride, just thinking. We'd had an amazing shuttle ride the other week, and two blissful days, but it couldn't last…could it? Once we were back in the world of structure and uniforms and people who cared much more about appearances and rules than they did in the artsy community my father lived in, things would have to change, wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

 **(=A=)**

The house was packed when we got home.

Well, not packed, exactly, but judging by the boisterous laughter coming from the kitchen Gia's parents and brother, and my uncle had all arrived.

"The hordes have descended," I said to Data. I left the bags I was carrying near the stairs, and turned toward him. "Actually, Gia's family is pretty cool. And my uncle Zane is…well, he's literally a rock star these days, and before I bring you in there to meet them, I'd really love it if you kissed me."

"I would be happy to," he said, and did. Brief, sweet, soft. Perfect.

"I will never get tired of this," I said softly, resting my head against his chest for just a few seconds.

Data used the opportunity to kiss the top of my head and assure me, "Nor will I."

We lingered for another minute or so, and then walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen, where we found my father playing host to Tony and Nunzia Viglione, Gia's parents, and their son Nick, as well his younger brother, my favorite uncle, Zane.

"Ah, Zoe, you're back. And Data…I see my daughter convinced you to expand your wardrobe," my father greeted us as we walked in.

"Zoe can be quite logical when she presents an argument," Data said, teasing me just a little.

"So she can," my father agreed. "I think you all remember my daughter," Dad asked the three Vigliones. "This is Lt. Commander Data, from the _Enterprise._ He's her –."

"Boyfriend," Data and I said together, before my father could say _beau_.

After that, there were a lot of European-style kisses exchanged with both of us, and Nunzia and Tony both embraced me, as did my uncle.

"Zoe, we ordered pizza from Mario's, are you two joining us?"

"Definitely," I said. "Where's Gia? Is the baby okay?"

"They're napping," her mother told me. "Gia's exhausted, and babies sleep pretty much all the time at first. She'll be down as soon as she's able."

"Or not," my father said. "I'd rather she rest tonight, and be able to visit the party tomorrow."

"Is that still on?" I asked, dropping into one of the open chairs at the table – they'd left the two at the end open, apparently anticipating that Data and I would eventually return. "I mean, Zeke can't be exposed to people yet, can he?"

"Not yet, no. Just the immediate family," Dad answered. "But yes, the party's still on. Speaking of which, after Surfside tomorrow, I'll need your help."

"I expected as much."

"Data, would you mind if we put you to work as well?"

"I would be happy to help in any way, of course," he said.

 **(=A=)**

By eight that night the pizza had been delivered and devoured, along with several bottles of beer and soda – Dad and I were the soda drinkers, everyone else had beer, including Data, who kindly pretended not to notice when I stole the occasional sip from his bottle.

Nick and I volunteered to clean up, while Dad checked on Gia and the baby – both were fine – and Nunzia and Tony went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes. Zane, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, left to make a comm-call, and Data also excused himself, carrying all of our shopping bags upstairs.

"Your...boyfriend…he's not just any officer, is he?" Nick asked as we put the leftover pizza into storage bags. "My parents don't pay much attention to Starfleet, but I know the name, and the face, from the newsnets."

"He's the second officer of the ship," I confirmed. "And yes, he's thirteen years older than I am, and yes, he's an android, and yes, both my parents are aware of all of that. We met when I joined his math tutorial, and we started getting closer when he agreed to oversee my music theory studies. We were really only 'just friends' until fairly recently…and then we weren't. And now we're…together."

"And you're happy. Happier than you were with that Vulcan boy." He made it a statement.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd even noticed me much last year."

"Not notice _you_? With your personality? Really, Zoe, you underestimate your charm."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, he's…he makes me _better_. More confident. Smarter. Maybe even funnier. And it terrifies me because I'm not even seventeen, but there's a part of me that feels like he's who I'm supposed to be with forever."

"Stranger things have happened," Nick observed. "You're a junior, aren't you? In high school?"

"Yeah. I mean, I have almost enough credits to graduate this year, if I wanted to push that hard, and I could definitely graduate at the end of first semester, next year, instead of waiting 'til May or June, but…everyone keeps telling me I don't need to rush things, and I'm not even sure where I want to go to school yet."

"I thought the plan was to follow your father's footsteps and go to the Martian School?"

"Well, I have to apply, for a lot of reasons, and I'm a legacy so they pretty much have to admit me, but it's actually not my first choice. I'm looking at schools on Earth, actually – Harvard, Yale, NYU."

"As a music major?"

"No, actually. I want a broader curriculum than that. I'm leaning more toward theater, but then, I'm also kind of flirting with pre-law. If you're going to be here after the holiday, I'd love to pick your brain about that."

"I'm not sure I have much to offer in the way of advice," he said. "But I can tell you what a pre-law major is really like. And I'll repeat my offer: if you want to do an internship this summer, even if it's just two weeks, call me; we'll set something up."

"I'll think about it," I said, and I meant it.

"You would make a good attorney," Data said from behind me. "If that is what you choose to do, but I believe you would be happier pursuing a career on stage."

"How much did you hear?" I asked him.

"I heard you name the universities you are considering, I believe there are two or three others that might suit you, but we can discuss it later if you like. Nick, I did not realize you practiced law. May I ask what your specialty is?"

"I work for an NGO that handles immigration and civil rights issues, mostly," Nick explained. "But I'm attached to a full-service law firm."

"I am gratified to hear that," Data said, "as I am in need of an attorney who handles probate issues."

I turned sharply to share at my…boyfriend. (That word was never going to feel right, but it _was_ more accurate than 'beau.') _Soong's will?_ I mouthed, and he nodded in response.

"Data, would you rather I not be here for this discussion?"

"I would prefer that you remain, if you do not object." I didn't, and I said so. Data continued, addressing Nick. "I have recently come into possession of the last known will and testament of my father – the man who created me – Dr. Noonian Soong. He has left all of his holdings to me, but there is some contention about my right to inherit, as I am not a biological being."

Data outlined the issues of his status, the source of the will, and several other points, most of which I was somewhat aware of already.

"I think we can help with that," Nick said. "I'll need to bring in some colleagues. Before we go any further, though, do me a favor? Send ten credits to my account – it's the friends-and-family retainer, and by exchanging money, you're guaranteed attorney-client privilege."

"Ah," said Data. "Thank you." I offered him my padd, which was still on the counter where I'd left it a day or so before, and he and Nick handled their transaction, and also shook hands. Then Data said, "There is the additional 'wrench in the works' that time is of the essence. A Starfleet officer, Commander Bruce Maddox _may_ have acquired a copy of the will, and is likely attempting to invalidate it, if so."

Nick nodded. "After the holiday, I'll make some calls. I'm sure we can help."

"Thank you," Data said.

My father, Zane, and Nick's parents rejoined us at that point. "It's only nine," Dad said. "Too early for bed, too late for anything strenuous. Who's up for cards?"

"What game?" Nick asked.

"Well, I've heard Tony's a mean poker player," Dad responded.

"Not mean, just wicked," Tony teased. I was growing to really like the old man. He didn't talk much, but when he did, he was always funny.

"Data plays poker," I chimed in.

"I'll play," Zane put in. I noticed he was staring at Data a lot, and that he was just on the edge of being glowery, but he was keeping quiet, so I shrugged it off. He'd likely corner me and reveal all at some extremely inopportune moment. That was his typical M.O.

"What about you two," Nick asked. "Mom? Zoe?"

"So _not_ my game," I said. "But don't let me stop you. I'm going to review the surf reports and then soak in the hot tub for a while. I need to be ready for tomorrow morning."

"Do you mind company, Zoe?" Gia's mother asked. Technically, I guess she was my step-grandmother. "I'm not much for poker. Canasta, on the other hand, is my game."

"Do you have a bathing suit with you?" I asked. "If not, we have extras in the pool house, but yeah, of course, join me if you want."

She went out to the pool house, but I hesitated. I went back to the table where Dad, Zane, Nick, Tony and Data had begun their game, and touched the latter on the shoulder. "Anyone who's coming to Surfside needs to be up by six so we can be there by seven. If you could make sure the game ends a little before midnight…"

"I will keep track of the time," he promised.

"If I'm not still out in the pool or hot tub, come to my room after the game?" I asked softly.

"Yes," he said.

I squeezed his shoulder and went out through the mud room, grabbing one of my own bathing suits on the way. Nunzia and I had a pleasant hour before she left for her room, and I swam laps for a while after that before I, too, gave up on the night.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 44997.26 (Sunday, 31 December 2367, 12:05 AM local time)**

Just after midnight, Data poked his head through the open bathroom door, to find me reading in bed. "Zoe?" he asked. "You wished to see me?" He was wearing the dressing gown and pajamas again, I noticed.

"The game is over?"

"It is. Everyone else has retired to bed."

"How much of my inheritance is now yours?" I teased.

"None," he said. "We played only for points."

I wrinkled my nose. "Well, that's dull." But I lifted my hand before he could object. "Come with me to the next room?"

I climbed out of my bed, and led him into the sitting room that was part of my suite. Dad had installed a basic replicator for me, years before, and I used it to produce two mugs of mint tea. "There hasn't been a good time to do this, but I want to be able to surf without it weighing on my mind. We weren't together for Christmas because of your conference, but I have presents for you anyway."

"I have gifts for you as well," he said. "I will return in a moment." He left the room, but came back quickly, carrying a shopping bag that we hadn't acquired on our shared trip.

The first thing I handed him was a data solid. "We both know I can't be your student anymore," I said softly. "Although now that we are more…physically intimate…I'm pretty sure I could sit in class and not be completely distracted. It's enough to know that we can share kisses and cuddles in private. We - we still can, can't we? On the ship?"

"We have already agreed that while discretion and decorum are required, we do not have to 'go backward' in our relationship," he confirmed.

"Just checking." I flashed a winsome smile. "So, the data solid contains all the homework from the weeks I wasn't in your class, reviewed and graded by Geordi. I talked to him while you were away being famous, and he said that if you and Ms. Phelps agree to it, he would continue grading my work in your math tutorial. I'd…I'd like to _try_ coming back to class for the actual lectures, unless it's too distracting."

"I believe that would be…ethically acceptable," he said. "Providing Ms. Phelps and your classmates all agree. I was not aware you were keeping up with the assignments."

"Well, I was on the fence about it, but Geordi said I should. He gives decent advice, from time to time."

"I have also found that to be true."

"I don't see what my friends have to do with it, but I guess we can work that out at another time."

"I believe that would be wise."

I smiled. "Okay, part two."

He raised his brow, "There is more?"

"Did you really think a few weeks of homework qualified as a gift?" I teased. "There's a bit more. Part two is how we handle music theory."

"Geordi cannot grade you on that."

"No, but the computer can, and Counselor Troi said Commander Riker is willing to oversee the final exam, though she also said it was likely okay if you did, since it was always a personal enrichment course and not part of my actual transcript."

"Which do you prefer?"

"You, always. So if you're willing, I'd like to do the final as soon as I get back, and after that…after that, I don't need a teacher anymore. I need you to be my partner, and I'd like you coach me for my Martian audition. I got the list of suggested audition pieces in my email today. Even last year, Dad noticed how well we play together." I handed him a data flimsy with the sheet music I had to pick from and then learn.

"More than one person has told me my own musicianship has improved since we began working together," Data shared. "I do not wish to discontinue our musical partnership any more than you do."

"Besides, you promised to teach me guitar."

"I remember," he said. "I look forward to that experience."

I smiled at him. "Me, too, Basil, darling," I teased him with the nickname. I lifted one more item from the table, and handed it to him. This one was a wrapped box. "This is your actual present. And may I just say, you're really difficult to shop for."

I watched him open the box, and remove a tissue-wrapped object, which he carefully unwrapped to reveal a holographic photo-cube. He activated it, and watched as the images cycled through. "These are all images of us," he observed.

"You painted all those pictures of me…but even though I was looking at you, there was no 'you' in the images. I thought you might like having pictures of us…together. I mean, I know you remember everything, but sometimes it's nice to have an external perspective." The six pictures on the cube included our very first concert together, a scene from _The Diary of Anne Frank_ , a trio of candid shots from events on the _Enterprise_ , and the professional shot I'd purchased without him knowing, of the two of us framed in the window of the lighthouse from the day before. It was one of those keepsake pictures that tourist places always offer. "I kept copies of some of them," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe." He couldn't express emotions, would claim he didn't have them – _still_ – but I could tell he was pleased and touched.

Data replaced the things I'd given him on the table, and retrieved the package he'd brought in from where he'd set it next to him on the couch. "I am still learning how to select appropriate gifts," he cautioned. "And I chose not to solicit advice this time."

The wrapping turned out not to be paper at all, but a midnight blue scarf patterned with tiny silver stars, and fastened with silver and gold ribbon. I slung it around my neck, and smiled. "You're doing fine so far." Inside, wrapped in tissue, I found a t-shirt. "Hard Rock Café: Shi'Kahr," I read, delighted. "Data, these are rare. They were only open for two years. Oh, god, this is fantastic." I flung my arms around him, and kissed him hard. "You are fantastic." I said.

"There was a vintage store on Kneriad and this was in the window. I could not let it go unpurchased."

"I didn't think you even noticed my shirts."

"I have noticed. But _you_ have failed to notice that there is one more package."

Indeed, a small box had fallen from the folds of the shirt. I could tell it held jewelry, and for a moment I was terrified that he'd bought the necklace I'd been eyeing. I let out a sigh of relief when it wasn't a necklace at all but a pair of seashells that had been frosted with gold sparkle-dust and turned into earrings. "Oh, these are lovely, thank you."

"You are welcome, Zoe."

I picked up my nearly forgotten mug of tea – it was still warm – and drank it down. "Don't ever worry that you don't know how to choose presents. Any one of these things would have been enough. I feel…spoiled. And…cared for. And…special."

"You are special to me, Zoe."

"I know," I said. "I _do_ know," I reiterated. "You show me every day." I had something else I wanted to say, but I knew it was late, and I wanted to be at my best in the water the next day. "I should go to bed. Will you…will you wake me a little after six?"

"I will." He hesitated. "If you wish me to stay again…"

I got up from the couch, "Wish? Yes, of course I _wish_ , but it was an indulgence I shouldn't have asked for last night, and it's not fair to you anyway." I leaned down to kiss him again – quickly, sweetly – and then grinned and ruffled his hair. "Goodnight, Data."

"Good night, Zoe," he said, also rising. "Pleasant dreams."

He turned out the lights in the sitting room, waited while I got back into bed and turned out my room lights as well, before he disappeared back through the bathroom to his own rooms on the other side.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and my dreams that night were full of love and light and surfing.

* * *

 **Notes:** We originally met Gia's parents and brother and Zoe's uncle Zane in chapter 34 of _Crush_. Zoe's love of collectible t-shirts runs all through the first story, and the scenes on the photo cube are from _Crush, Crush II: Ostinato,_ and previous chapters of this story. If their relationship in this chapter seems excessively fluffy, consider that they'll have to pull back a lot when they're back on the ship. This is vacation in more ways than one. The Hamalki are from the expanded universe of the TOS novels, and are a race of architects and designers. The song lyrics at the beginning are from "Song for a Winter's Night," which was originally written and performed by Gordon Lightfoot in 1967.


	5. Song For a Winter's Night (Part IV)

**_Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS owns everything from canon; I own the rest. Reviews and chocolate are welcome (I prefer the latter to be dark)._**

* * *

 **Song for a Winter's Night – Part IV**

 _If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two_

 _I would be happy just to hold the hands I love_

 _And to be once again with you_

 _On this winter night with you_

 **Surfside Beach, Centaurus**

 **Stardate 44998.05 (Sunday, 31 December 2367, 7:00 AM, local time)**

We arrived at Surfside in time to get a decent parking space, and to stake out a good location on the beach. I was wearing a red bikini – two piece bathing suits were more comfortable – under my wetsuit, which was currently unzipped, with the top hanging around my waist. Data was dressed in the sandals – without socks – he'd purchased the day before, along with the khaki pants and Hawaiian shirt he'd selected. If I thought he looked hot in his uniform, and sexy in the black turtleneck he'd worn home from our shopping excursion, I thought his beach outfit made him look huggable. And kissable. Actually, I was pretty sure I'd become addicted to his kisses.

The day wasn't about competing, so there were no judges, although there were surf patrol volunteers on jet skis, just in case something happened. It doesn't look like it from shore, but surfing's actually pretty violent. Your neck, shoulders and back are constantly being strained, and your whole body gets slammed by wind and water, even if you don't wipe out.

"Zoe! You're here! Awesome!" My friend Kell – Kelly Weaver - ran up to the flitter to greet me. "And…Mr. Data, wasn't it? Wow, you look different in clothes. I mean…not-uniform clothes….I mean…"

"It is just Data," he corrected her, pointedly ignoring the fact that I was laughing. "Thank you for the compliment."

"Can I carry something for you?" Kell asked. "My brother's home from uni for the holidays, and he's got my parents set up over by the lifeguard stand."

"Grab my extra board?" I asked her. "And Data, if you don't mind, grab the chairs, and the bag with the blanket and towels?" I slung the strap for our cooler over my shoulders, and picked up my favorite board – it was painted black with hot pink pinstripes – and headed down the beach, though Kell caught up to me and whispered, "Zoe, your boyfriend is all kinds of hot."

"Yeah," I said grinning. "Yeah, he is. And he's also all kinds of not at all deaf, and totally just heard you." I glanced over at the new sandal-wearing version of the man I loved, and my grin got even broader when he caught my eye and winked.

A few minutes later, Data was comfortably situated in a beach chair, with instructions to take pictures. I suspected he didn't actually need the camera I handed to him, but chose not to ask just then.

 **(=A=)**

By eight, anyone who was going to show up had done so, and most of us had caught a wave. There were maybe five of us who were serious surfers – me, Kell, Kavan Meyer, Joss Murtry, who'd been a couple years ahead of me in school, and Soleth, a half-Vulcan math major from Great Oreas University, who was so ruthless on the waves that he'd picked up the rather cruel nick-name, "Soulless."

There were an equal number of surfers who weren't all that serious about the sport – Oscar from the menswear store and Kell's brother Tom were among them, but they were surfing further down the beach from the rest of us, where the waves were smaller.

Surf etiquette says that the first person to catch a wave becomes the lowest priority when they get back to the lineup. Kell, Kavan, and Soleth had caught waves in the second set already, and Joss and I were in the lineup waiting. Technically, the next wave should have been mine because I'd paddled back out faster than he had, but he dropped in on me just after I caught it, lost control of his board, and crashed into me. We ended up rolling in the white water. It's a common error, and while frustrating, neither of us was seriously hurt.

But I was annoyed.

"Dude," I said as we both resurfaced and climbed back on our boards. "Not cool."

"Sorry, Zoe," he said. "I wasn't paying attention and that wave was primo."

"Yeah it was," I agreed. I was already paddling back out, and so was he. "And now we're last priority. Race you back out there." I didn't wait for his response, just started paddling harder, past the break, back to the lineup, duck diving under the incoming waves to save time and energy.

We surfed through another set, each of us catching two more waves with no more drop-ins. At one point Soleth was drifting next to me during a lull between waves. "The man on the beach," he asked. "The one you came with…he's Starfleet's android?"

His phrasing made me bristle. "He's Lieutenant Commander Data," I said, "and yes, he's an android, but he's a free citizen, just like we are."

"I meant no offense," he said. "I wish an introduction."

"I can do that," I said.

"Thank you," he said, but a beat later he added, "You have good form on your board, but if you adjust your weight so you are leaning more toward the front it will improve your speed and balance."

I let his advice percolate for a moment. "Yeah," I said. "You're probably right. Thanks." The next wave was his, and I had to admit, he was an excellent surfer.

Kell paddled back into the lineup just after Soleth caught his wave. "Too bad Soulless isn't into dating," she said. "Because the man is sex on a shred-stick."

I met my friend's eyes, and shook my head and smiled. Soleth was a good surfer, but there was only one man's body I was remotely interested in.

The next wave was mine, and it was the kind of perfect hollow tube that that you can see in every surfing video ever made. Perfect crest. Perfect curl. I was totally in the groove, playing the line with a wall of water behind me and cool spray in my face. My hair, French-braided within an inch of its life to keep it from getting in my eyes or mouth – something other surfers didn't seem to mind, but that always drove me crazy – was wet, the tails of my braids streaming behind me.

I adjusted my stance, bent at the knee, and shifted my weight toward the forward end of my board. I wasn't one for shredding – no fancy, flamboyant stunts. _My_ high was the exhilarating feeling of a long, clean ride. And I got it.

I didn't ride the wave quite into shore, but I knew there was no way I was going to top that ride…at least, not that day, so I rode it as far as I could and then dropped down to paddle to the point where the water was shallow enough to splash through, then trudged back to the blanket where Data and my father – when had he arrived? – were sitting, watching.

The wind had picked up while I'd been in the water, I noticed, and there was a bite in the air.

"…says we 'fit' together," I heard Data saying to my father as I approached. I strained to hear, but he'd seen me coming and lowered his voice, and that, plus the wind, made it impossible to catch every word. "…concur but…difficult choices in our future."

My father's words were also mostly whipped away by the sea breeze, "…young, but she knows her own…." There was a pause and then he continued, "…may be cliché to ask…intentions toward her?"

I only heard the last few words of Data's reply: "…for as long as she wishes."

So they were talking about me. About me and Data and what the future might hold. _File it away for later Zoe. Enjoy what you have for as long as you have it_ , I told myself, as I collapsed on the soft, cotton beach blanket. Aloud, I panted, "I wish…I could live…in the water…all the time."

"But we'd miss your charming presence on dry land, mermaid-child," my father teased. "What happened with that wipe-out?"

" _Joss_ happened. I had priority and he totally dropped in and snaked my wave, only he overbalanced – or something – and slammed into the tail of my board, and then it was, 'oh, hi, whitewater…which way is up, again?'"

"You appear to have recovered quickly," Data observed.

Breathing normally once more, I sat up and released the cuff of my board leash from around my ankle. "Yeah, because I've had it happen before and knew to follow the leash."

"Please elaborate," Data requested.

"Oh, boards float…so when you get disoriented you follow the leash if you lose your hold. Actually, when you surf on long boards, you do turtle rolls to get under the big waves and past the break, and there's a point at which you're literally suspended from your board under water. It's kind of scary to learn – not that duck diving is any _less_ scary – but once you know the trick of it, it all clicks and makes sense." I grinned at him. "Just don't ask me to give you the math behind surfing, please, because I refuse to do anything more complicated than figuring out appropriate tips while I'm on vacation."

"I will not," he promised. But I could see thoughts spinning behind those yellow eyes, and I made a mental note to expect a surf-related challenge in his tutorial when it resumed in mid-January.

Kell and Kavan ran up to us, just then, laughing and dodging each other. "Zoe, that was an awesome ride! You totally played it, girl," Kell said.

Kavan, always the quieter of the two agreed with her. "Yeah, you _killed_ that ride, Zoe…are you coming to breakfast?" He glanced past me at Dad and Data. "Good morning, Maestro," he greeted. "And…I'm sorry, we've never met," he said to Data. "You look kind of familiar though."

"He should," Kell said, "He's a hero of the Federation. Kavan, this is Lt. Commander Data from the _Enterprise._ He's our Zoe's new boyfriend."

I rolled my eyes at my friend, but added the other side of the introduction, "Data, this is Kavan Meyer. We've been friends - mostly – since we were two."

"I've seen you on the news," Kavan said. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"It is a pleasure to meet another of Zoe's friends," Data said.

Kell didn't quite squeal. "Aren't they adorable together?" She linked her arm through Kavan's. "Almost as adorable as we are. Maestro, the party's still on tonight isn't it? We – and my parents – will be there."

"The party's still on, though it might be a little quieter than usual," Dad said. "Gia gave birth in the wee hours of yesterday morning. Zoe is officially the half-owner of a shiny new baby brother. David Ezekiel Harris."

"Half-owner?" Kavan asked.

"Because she's his half-sister. Clear the nebula from your brain, Kav." Kell said, slugging him in the upper arm. "Tell Gia we all say congrats, Maestro," she said to my father. "Are you all joining the breakfast bunch?"

"Not me," my father said, standing up. "I need to get back to Gia and our houseguests. Zoe, Data, we have caterers and others setting everything up, so you're off the hook for helping out. If you don't want to hang around the house all day, there's no obligation, but either way, I'll see you at home." He leaned down to kiss me on the cheek, "Love you, Zoetrope. You looked great out there."

I grinned. "Love you, too, Dad. I'm glad you came out."

He turned toward the parking area, but paused to mock-glower at my friends. "You two," he said. "Behave." Then he grinned, which ruined the whole effect.

"What say you, Zo'? Breakfast?" Kavan repeated the question I had yet to answer.

I looked at my friends, then back at Data, and couldn't escape the sense that our time in the 'new love' bubble was rapidly diminishing. "Do you mind if we pass?" I asked. "I'll be here for another couple of weeks, and we should totally hook up, but…"

"But you want quality time with your Starfleet officer. We get it." Kell grinned. "Data it was good seeing you again. If Zoe lets me, I'm stealing a dance from you tonight."

"I am certain she will consider allowing it," he teased.

"Data will need a break from me stepping on his feet. Social dance is not my forte," I said, standing up. The three of us exchanged hugs. "We'll see you tonight. Give my love to your folks." My friends, trotted off, and all around us the beach was emptying. Finally, it was just the two of us, and Soleth, who was still on the water. When everyone else had gone, he came to our blanket.

"Hey, thanks for the tip," I told him.

"You did have quite a ride on that last wave," he responded.

"Data, this is Soleth. He asked me to introduce you. Soleth, Data. Talk amongst yourselves, I'm going to run and change." I'd already unzipped the top of my wetsuit, and I noticed that both of them were watching me. I wondered if Data had even noticed my bathing suit, but I had no plans to ask him. Instead, I paused near his chair, bent to give him a brief buss on the lips, and took my bag to the changing rooms near the parking lot.

Soleth was gone, and Data had stowed our stuff, by the time I returned. "You packed," I said.

"The temperature is dropping, and a squall appears to be forming over the ocean. I wished to hasten our departure. As well, I know you have not eaten today."

"I was planning to hit Red Sands for coffee and breakfast-in-a-cup before we went back to the house. Unless you have a burning desire to meet everyone for breakfast? We still could."

"I do not," he said. "I enjoyed the eclectic assortment of customers at the espresso bar."

I grinned. "Yeah, I love to people-watch there, too. So, Red Sands then. Super." We got in the flitter, and he took the controls. "So, what'd Soleth want?"

"He wished to discuss a paper that I recently published in a physics journal."

"He didn't stay long."

"He also wished to determine whether or not you were 'available.' I explained that you were my girlfriend, and he left abruptly. We did exchange contact information, however."

"It didn't occur to him that me kissing you was a clue that we were together?"

"Apparently not."

 **(=A=)**

We beat the post-church rush to the coffee bar, and snagged my favorite table in the window, where we could glimpse the water, but also see almost the entire café. I introduced Data to my favorite game: making up ridiculous stories about who the other customers were, and I was pleased to learn that he was pretty good at improvising backstories based on clothing and hairstyles.

It was my turn to make up a story, when a bear of a man with wild grey hair walked in trailed by a much younger, black-haired version of himself. I was staring at them thinking that there was something familiar about the older one, when realization hit me – the fact that he opened his mouth to order, and a loud Scottish brogue issued forth didn't hurt.

"Oh, my god," I said. "That's Lachlan Meade."

Data followed my gaze. "Your instructor from the summer program at ACT?"

"That's the one. Excuse me a moment?"

"Of course."

I got up and crossed the room. "Lach?" I greeted. "What are you doing in Beach Haven?"

"Zoe Harris! Lassling! Yer the last person I expected t'find here."

"I _live_ here," I pointed out.

"D'ye now? I was fair certain ye lived on some starship."

"Well, yeah, I do…during the school year. But Beach Haven's home to me. Are you here for work or …?"

He changed his attitude so that his dark-haired follower was part of our conversation. "Visiting m'sis and her boy. Alistair, this is Zoe. She was one of our best in San Francisco last summer."

"He says that about all his students," I said to the boy (up close, I could tell he was a couple of years younger than me) I now knew was Alistair. "I think he's worried our parents will stop paying our reg fees otherwise."

"Nay, Lassling," Lach protested. "With you, 'tis all true."

I blushed faintly. "Well, thanks for that. You should come join us – Data and me, I mean."

"We'll be right over," he said.

I returned to the table and scooted my chair much closer to Data's so my instructor and his nephew would have ample room. "I invited them to join us. I hope you don't mind, but I really want you to meet him."

"I would like that as well," Data said.

Lachlan and Alistair joined us a few minutes later, the former greeting Data with a smile and a hearty handshake and the words, "Zoe talked about ye so much o'er the summer, I feel as if I know ye. It's a pleasure."

"Thank you, sir," Data said. "I, too, have heard many stories about you."

"Data's the one who talked me off the ledge after my first week at ACT. I don't think he'd ever had anyone comm him in tears before."

"Zoe was certain that you hated her and thought she was talentless."

"Ach, Lassling, if I'd thought ye were talentless ye'd not have been in my section. I hand-picked your group."

"You did?"

"Aye, and not a one of you was disappointing, though, now I think on it, you did seem pretty closed off that first little while." He turned to Data, nearly upsetting the table in the process. "Thank you for convincing her to stay. But…didn't I see you in one of the clips she sent for her audition?"

"You did," Data confirmed. "I have been privileged to share the stage with Zoe in two plays, since she came to live on the _Enterprise_. She was most excellent as Juliet last month."

"I'd love to see video of that, if it exists."

"I would be happy to oblige."

The three of us talked for another half an hour or so, but I could tell that Alistair was getting extremely bored. I tried asking about his interests, but he just turned toward the window. Finally, he nudged his uncle and mumbled something about going home.

"We should be going ourselves," I said. "My stepmother just had a baby, and tonight's my family's annual New Year's Eve party. My father insisted we didn't need to help, but…" I let the sentence trail off.

Alistair was already out the door before Lachlan had even left the table. "My apologies, Lassling, Mr. Data, I didn't mean to monopolize yer morning," he said, hoisting himself from his chair. "Zoe…if yer looking for a summer program this year, I'm directing the Idyllwild Troupe's summer tour, and we haven't found our resident ingénue yet. Ye'd mesh with the group, I think, and if you c'n handle Shakespeare as ably as ye did the contemporary work you performed this summer, ye'd be pairfect. Comm me; we'll set up an audition, but it's mainly a formality." He leaned over our table and stage whispered. "It's a paid job, Zoe-lass. Looks great on a resume."

"I'll think about it," I said. "It was good seeing you."

"It was an honor to meet you, Mr. Meade," Data said.

"Nay, lad. The honor is all mine. Thank-ye for yer sairvice to the Federation." And with that, he was gone.

"Did that really just happen?" I asked Data after a minute or so of silence. "Did I just get a job offer while sitting in a café?"

"Apparently so."

"I thought that only happened in videos," I said, and then I asked, my voice soft and small, "Do you think he meant it? And should I accept if he did?"

"I believe he meant it," Data said. "But you should discuss it with your parents before accepting or declining his offer."

"If it were you being asked, would you go?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his response.

I could feel the membrane of our holiday bubble stretching thin.

"Oh," I said, in a tone that was both tired and deflated. "Can we go home now? I think I need to rest before the party."

"Of course, Zoe." Data said, but he seemed to sense that my mood had changed because he took my hand as we left the table, lacing his fingers through mine. "You have been offered a rare and valuable opportunity," he said softly as we walked back to my flitter. "I believe the experience would be beneficial for you, but I confess: I am not eager for you to be away from the ship all summer."

"Yeah, I'm not eager for that either," I shared. "Do you mind driving home?"

"I do not."

 **(=A=)**

 **Beach Haven, Centaurus**

 **Stardate 44999.48 (Sunday, 31 December 2367, 7:30 PM, local time)**

The party was due to start around nine that evening. By seven-thirty, I had napped and showered, eaten a light dinner, done my hair, and put on the dress I'd bought during my shopping day with Data - the dress that coordinated perfectly with the earrings he'd given me.

Data had asked my father if he could use his office for a few hours, so I hadn't seen him since we arrived home. I hadn't mentioned my encounter with Lachlan Meade to my father, and as far as I knew, Data hadn't either, but I didn't have a chance to ask him, because when I arrived downstairs, my uncle, Zane, was leaning against the bannister, waiting for me.

"Hey, you. I've barely seen you the last couple days."

"I've had a guest," I said.

"And I've spent more time with him, playing poker, than I have with my favorite niece. Join me in the music room?"

"I'm your only niece," I pointed out as I followed him down the hall and into the room that was lined with acoustic tiles and held an array of musical instruments, including, at that moment, my cello. "I liked your last playlist," I said. "That one song with the sort of disco-beat driving the melody and the Deltan chanting as counterpoint – genius."

He grinned his typical insouciant grin at me. "Gee, thanks, Zoe. You'd never know it from the stacks of letters and heaps of comm calls I get from you."

"Zane –" I'd stopped calling him 'uncle' to his face around the time I was ten, though I still introduced him to people that way. "Since when has our relationship ever been about letters and calls? You and me? Strictly face-to-face."

"Sure, when you were a kid and I could drop in on you any time." He sat down at the ancient upright piano that dominated one end of the room. We had a baby grand, as well, but that was in the great room. Probably, by now, someone had opened the lid and dusted the keys so it would be ready for tonight. Dad always kept it tuned and timed. "Now you're almost seventeen, dating _men_ instead of boys – men who happen to be decorated officers."

"God, you make me sound so slutty. It's not _men_ , it's _one man_. It's Data. You've met him. You have, as you said, played poker with him. Can't you see why…why I can't help what I feel for him?"

Idly, he played a few chords of one of his earliest songs, one I really liked. "Yeah, I can. But I'm your uncle, and I worry."

"Because of my age? Or his position?" I lowered my voice, "Or do you object to the fact that he's an android?"

"I don't object, exactly, Zoe-licious. I _worry_. You're so young, but watching him - watching you - I can't help but think that this isn't just some fling, some relationship you're using to test the waters of adulthood. You two…you seem so connected."

He played another set of chords, one that was familiar to me because it came from an ancient rock-n-roll song we both loved. He favored me with another grin, and started singing along with his own playing:

 _"_ _Well she was just seventeen  
And you know what I mean  
And the way she looked  
Was way beyond compare_

 _So how could I dance with another  
Ooo, when I saw her standing there?"_

"You know, it's kind of ironic that one of the people who doesn't want me to grow up too fast is trying to prematurely age me. I don't turn seventeen for three more weeks," I snarked, but he waggled his eyebrows at me, inviting me to join in.

I shook my head no, and he went on:

 _"Well she looked at me  
And I, I could see  
That before too long  
I'd fall in love with her_

 _She wouldn't dance with another  
Woo, when I saw her standing there!"_

"Come on, Zo'" he coaxed, riffing on the piano, before he launched into the bridge. "You _know_ you want to."

I rolled my eyes, but he was right…I did want to sing. I started at the bridge, altering the lyrics slightly:

 _"Well my heart went boom  
When I crossed that room  
And I held his hand in mine_

 _Oh, we danced through the night  
And we held each other tight  
And before too long  
I fell in love with him._

 _Now I'll never dance with another  
Woo, since I saw him standing there!"_

We took the repeat of the bridge and chorus at a slightly faster tempo, and we were both laughing by the time we finished the song.

"More?" he asked.

"Move over," I said. I joined him on the bench and dove into the opening of my _other_ favorite Beatles song, _Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da._ We were having such a good time, riffing on the melody, and doing four-hand piano that we didn't realize we had an audience until we finished.

"Looks like Zoe and Zane got the party started early. Should I cancel the band, you two?"

"No, please?" I said. "You know I hate singing in front of people…"

"...unless you're playing a character," my father finished for me. "Yes, I know. Data, perhaps in between theory lessons and your classical studies together, you can coax Zoe to be more open with her other gifts."

"I will take it under advisement," Data said diplomatically. To me, he added, "I was not aware you played the piano as well as the cello and violin."

"In this family," I said, "piano lessons start about as soon as you begin to draw breath. I'm…well, I don't completely suck, and I can play enough to rehearse on my own when I _have_ to sing." I turned slightly to glare at my father, "I'm still mad at you for volunteering me to sing at your wedding. Give me another year and I _might_ consider forgiving you for that." I was teasing, mostly, and we both knew it."

"Forgive me now and I _might_ consider not showing Data the home videos of all your ballet recitals."

" _Dad!_ "

He must have sensed something other than mere exasperation in my tone, because he backed off. "Easy, Zoetrope, you know I'm just teasing," he said, but then, he added, "Anyway, Data's already got copies of the videos."

I had no idea if he was teasing me or not, so I offered the only response that I could: "Sure, Dad. Whatever."

 **(=A=)**

Dad had warned everyone that because of the new baby, Gia wouldn't be very present at the New Year's Eve party, and he'd also asked everyone to keep things toned down. Of course, toned down in our family meant the music didn't quite shake the windows, and the lights could only be seen a nautical mile or so out to sea.

Music was provided by a hired band – recorded music was never used at Harris family parties – but Dad, Zane, and many of the musicians in Dad's orchestra, or just from around town, spelled the hired players. At one point, Data even joined the group, playing a borrowed oboe (with a fresh mouthpiece and reed, of course), and I really enjoyed watching him interact with my family and our friends.

Data and I both danced a lot, mostly together – he counted the steps for me so I wouldn't stumble, but even though ballroom wasn't really my thing, I'd had enough dance training to know how to let him lead. Unlike the first time we'd danced, months before on the _Enterprise_ , I didn't feel awkward in his arms. I felt…I felt completely at home. The fact that my black dress, shot through with hints of gold, complemented his dress uniform, didn't hurt. I hoped there would be pictures.

"Back, two, three, side, two, three," Data said softly, as the band played a slow song, and we waltzed to it. He'd returned to me after his dance with Kell and mine with Kavan. "You really do not need me to count this for you any longer, Zoe," he said.

I gave a slight shrug, a half smile. "Maybe I just like hearing your voice."

"So you have said. Would you not prefer conversation to counting?"

"That depends; will you tell me what you and my father were talking about on the beach this morning?"

"I will," he said, "but not here, and not now. It is a conversation best held when we are in a private space."

"Oh. So, it was his fatherly 'what are your intentions' thing." I wasn't really guessing.

"It was, but you will still have to wait until we are alone to hear the entire conversation. Please do not attempt to wheedle it from me."

"I never _wheedle_ ," I protested. "Well…never with you." Mostly because I didn't have to. "Look up."

He did so, saw the plant hanging from the ceiling in the great room, and let his lips curve into a very slight smile. "Ah," he said. "Mistletoe. Traditionally hung from doorways. Those who stand under it are encouraged to kiss."

"We wouldn't want to mess with tradition," I said.

"No," he confirmed. "We would not." He bent his head and met my lips with his. It was a soft kiss - slightly open mouths, almost no tongue - but it left no doubt about the status of our relationship.

The flash of a camera and the chirp of his communicator came at the same time, pulling us out of the moment. "The music room's soundproofed," I told him. "I'll go with you…"

We exited the party, and moved back to the music room, where I sat on the piano bench and tried hard to not eavesdrop while he answered the comm. When he returned to me, I could see in his face that our holiday was over. The bubble had burst.

"That was the _Enterprise_ ," he said, sitting down next to me on the bench. "My presence is required, and I must return to the ship."

"Do you have to leave right now?"

"No," he said. "But I will have to leave before breakfast tomorrow."

"Okay."

"If you would rather not return to the party…" he began.

"No," I said. "I want to go back. I want you to experience our tradition. I just…I need a minute." We sat in silence for about that long, and then, hand in hand, we returned to the party, and I led him toward the musicians. "I'll be right back," I said. I left him, and went to whisper in my father's ear."

"Are you sure?" Dad asked me.

"Positive," I affirmed. I glanced at the clock. It was eleven-fifty.

"Alright then." He moved to the mic, waiting for the person currently singing into it to be finished before he silenced the band. "Everyone, I'm not sure what we did to deserve this treat. I suspect it has to do with our honored guest from the _Enterprise_ , and I only wish my mother hadn't chosen to extend her annual trip this year so she could be here, but my daughter Zoe has asked to sing, and I can't possibly deny her that."

He went to the piano, and beckoned to my uncle Zane, who conferred with him for a moment, then picked up an acoustic guitar. I went to the mic.

"Usually," I said, "I hate singing in front of people when it's just singing, but…tonight's special. A lot of people believe this is a Christmas song; it's not. It's just…" I shrugged and used the title of the song in my introduction. "It's a 'Song for a Winter's Night,' and…well, it should be obvious who it's for."

I didn't stare at Data the whole time I was singing – even when I was uncomfortable, I was a better performer than that - but when I got to the final chorus, my gaze locked with his.

 _"If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two_

 _I would be happy just to hold the hands I love_

 _And to be once again with you_

 _On this winter night with you"_

I hadn't expected applause, but I probably should have, since it was polite, and since most of the people assembled had known me since I was a zygote. I murmured a soft, "Thank you," to the room, and left the mic, but my cousin Vanessa caught my arm before I could return to Data's side.

"Nicely done, Zo'. Nicely done."

"Lunch on Tuesday?" I asked her. I was pretty certain I'd be spending most of Monday wallowing in my room.

"Count on it." She released my arm, and pushed me toward Data.

"So," I said, as I reached his side, "that happened. I blame you."

"Blame?" he asked, but I was pretty certain he knew what I really meant. "For someone who does not consider herself a singer you have excellent poise and presence." Even for someone who claimed not to have emotions, he was usually better attuned to me than his words implied, but when I looked into his face I saw…I'm not sure what. It was as if there was nervousness behind his usual placid demeanor. I put my hand on his chest, and he covered it with his own. "Thank you for the song, Zoe."

I wanted to tell him that I _meant_ it, but someone nudged me, and when I turned I found Gia holding out a basket of sparklers.

"Has Zoe shared our tradition with you, Data?" she asked, handing one of the metal sticks to each of us. "As we count down the last ten seconds to midnight, we'll also pass the sparklers, and pass kisses – chaste or not, as appropriate – around the room." She smiled at us. "I'd be sure to stand next to each other if I were you. You're so dashing, Zoe might have competition."

"Thank you for the compliment," Data told my stepmother. "But I do not believe anyone here could compete with Zoe."

Gia took in both of us with her gaze. "No," she said. "No, I don't expect they could, after all."

The lights were dimmed soon after that, and the band, with their lead singer at the mic, began to play "Auld Lang Syne" very softly as the first sparkler was lit, and we began to count.

"Ten, nine…" I saw Kell and Kavan exchange a kiss. "Eight, seven, six…" Gia and my father in the middle of the circle. "Five, four…" Zane and this year's date (Belinda the bassoonist).

"Three, two…" Nick kissed my cheek. "I know you're technically my niece-in-law," he said. "But if it's alright with you, I'd rather think of you as a sister."

"I'd like that," I said.

My sparkler flared into life, and I turned around to Data, last in line, as we reached the number one. I passed the flame to him, and we held our sparklers at arm's length, out to our sides, as we shared the kind of kiss every young woman fantasizes about.

Around me, I heard champagne corks popping, heard the music swell. Data took my spent sparkler, and his, and put them in the water bucket designated for just such a purpose. He slipped his arm around me, and I stood with his chest brushing my back and his warm tenor voice in my ear, as we joined the singing:

" _And there's a hand my trusty friend!_ _  
_ _And give me a hand o' thine!_ _  
_ _And we'll take a right good-will draught,_ _  
_ _for auld lang syne."_

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 45000.39 (Monday, 1 January 2368, 3:30 AM, local time)**

Data and I excused ourselves from the party at the earliest polite opportunity, pulling my father aside to explain what was going on, and then going through the kitchen and up the back stairs to avoid attention.

I changed out of my dress and into a tank top and pajama bottoms he'd seen me in before, and sat cross-legged on the bed in his room while he packed. We didn't really talk much. We didn't really need to.

Once he had everything folded away, zipped shut, and otherwise fastened to his satisfaction, Data came and sat next to me. "I do not believe you should cut your vacation short," he said, "but if you wish, you may return with me."

"Part of me wants to," I admitted. "But I'm supposed to be here for another couple of weeks, and I have a job starting Tuesday, and I think I should at least do Lachlan's audition. I can always decide later if I want to go. Flying home commercial won't be as much fun as the ride here with you, though."

"And the journey back to the Enterprise will be far less enjoyable without you," he responded. "If I am able to take leave to come back for you, I am willing to do so."

"That's an awfully long way to come just to get me alone, Data," I teased. "Do I need to give you a ride to the spaceport? The champagne was real, and I'm the only one who didn't drink any…well, other than you."

"Centaurus base will be contacting me for beam-out within an hour or two."

"Of course," I said. "I should have known." I glanced out the window, saw the beginning of false dawn. "How about we go sit on the deck until it's time?" I suggested. "We could listen to the waves, watch the sun come up…"

"I would like that."

I got off the bed and slid my feet into my slippers, and he picked up his luggage. We walked down the back stairs and out to the patio, where we sat together on the rattan sofa in the same positions we would have taken on his couch in his quarters.

I saw him start to speak, then decide against it. Instead, he just lifted his arm so I could snuggle close, and we sat in comfortable silence until the wind changed directions and I began to shiver.

Wordlessly, Data removed his uniform jacket and helped me put it on, wrapping me in the fabric itself and his own residual body heat. He watched me for a few seconds, then reached out and plucked his comm-badge from the front of the jacket, and removed his pips from the collar. The former, he attached to his black t-shirt. The latter he pocketed. Then he pulled me close once more, wrapping his arms around me, and placing a kiss on the top of my head.

I'm not sure how long we sat like that, exactly, but when his comm-badge chirped again, the sky had turned pink. He tapped it, and identified himself.

 _\- "ID confirmed,"_ came the response from the small speaker _. "Standing by for transport directly to Starfleet shuttle Descartes on your signal."_

Data released his embrace, and we both stood up. "I will see you soon," he promised. He brushed some of my hair away from my face, and bent to kiss me. It wasn't long enough, but it promised more.

I hugged him, hard. "Travel safe." I said.

"I will try," he answered, never one to promise more than he could deliver. Very softly, he added the two words that made my breath catch in my throat. "My Zoe."

He stepped away from me, grasped the handle of his luggage within one hand, and tapped his comm-badge with the other. "This is Lieutenant Commander Data," he said. "Energize."

I watched him shimmer into nothingness.

Then I shook my hands so that the sleeves of his jacket would fall past my fingertips, and I returned to the sofa.

 **(=A=)**

I was still sitting there when my father came out. I wasn't certain of the time, but it was full dawn by then, if not full daylight. "Data left?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "A while ago."

"You're wearing his uniform."

"Only part of it," I said. "He sort of…gave it to me." My father joined me on the sofa. "Daddy?" I asked softly, my voice small and scared. "How did you do it, all those years?"

"Do what, Zoe?"

"Watch Mom go away, never sure if she was coming back. I mean…I was a kid. I wasn't cognizant of the danger and risk inherent in a Starfleet career. Not then. I mean, I knew she was a cultural anthropologist, but I thought that meant she would always be safe." I stopped. Restarted. "How did you do it, Daddy? How did you cope?"

My father was silent for a long time. Finally, in an almost broken voice, he admitted. "I didn't. I…I went on long tours so I wouldn't have to face the empty house. I pulled you out of school and took you with me so I wouldn't have to be alone. I cheated on her so I wouldn't feel her absence. I did a lot of things wrong."

"But you loved her."

"I did. But I didn't like her work, and I began to hate myself for what I was doing."

"Oh."

"Zoe, this is one way in which we are not alike. You love with your whole being. We accepted your Mr. Data because we could see the depth of your feelings for him." He paused. "And we could see the depth of his feelings for you."

"Data doesn't have…" I started to say, but then I stopped, because while Data may not have had human emotions, whatever he had instead was just as good, if not better. I'd known from the moment he said we were a couple…no, from the moment he kissed me the night I saw his paintings of me…that what we had wasn't just real, but...lasting. "Right before he left," I whispered, "he called me _his_ Zoe."

"And?" my father asked.

I smiled into the early morning sky. "I'm good with that."

My father laughed, and ruffled my hair. "Go upstairs and go back to bed, Zoetrope. We'll see you when you're ready to come back to the ground."

I turned to kiss my father's cheek. "I love you, Dad," I said.

I wasn't sure how I knew, but I was suddenly very sure that everything was going to be fine.

* * *

 **Notes:** This concludes this section of _For Auld Lang Syne_. While I am also revising the subsequent sections, which were originally set in 2372 and 2377, I'm torn between doing so now, and waiting until the main story catches up. If you review, please include your thoughts on "more now" or "wait" when you do so?

Data is called back to participate in the events that begin on Stardate 44995.3 (technically the 30th of December according to planetary calendars, but what's a couple of days when he wasn't really deeply involved until events were under way?) The episode in question? _Redemption (Part I)_. (Also, in my Trekiverse, uniform trousers have pockets when they need to.)

A nautical mile is 1852 meters (1.151 standard miles), and, on Earth, is so close to equaling one minute of arc measured on any meridian, that it's still the standard unit used to measure distance by sea or air. (I have no idea why this note is here, but it must have been relevant when I originally wrote it.)

"I Saw You Standing There," was written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, and released in 1963. In the USA, it was the B-side of "I Want to Hold Your Hand." "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da" was written by Paul McCartney, and released in 1968 on _The White Album_. Common lore has it that John Lennon initially hated the song.

"Song for a Winter's Night" was originally written and performed by Gordon Lightfoot in 1967. "Auld Lang Syne" comes in many versions. The version we're most familiar with was 'collected' by Robert Burns.


End file.
